I like the way your mouth moves when you lie to me: Mocking the shapes of truth. Your tongue's best quality Was how it could seduce Me, and tamper with my innards Like a lion playing with his food. I like the way you hold my hand although I know you can't feel your fingertips-... Continue Reading →
It's raining And it hasn't stopped since yesterday. The cold fights warmth and fogs up my window, and my glasses. My cheeks are damp Because my eyelashes aren't umbrellas. Soggy and soaked, Are my sleeves from wiping away the rain that won't stop falling, It hasn't stopped since yesterday.
Legacy Along the walls of the white cube, Are photographs From the life of Alvah Goldbook. They howl at strangers from their polished frames, And lonely places on the walls: Consoling, inspiring, revealing Nothing but mystery and mysticism. Portraits and papers from old cameras and typewriters Jagged, torn, worn and wrinkled, Once ripped—indifferently— By a... Continue Reading →