andromeda.the mermaids kissed under the stars in the thick black water.More Like This
their bodies glowed in my eyes as they mingled and sang. sirens, singing me to sleep, to drown, in the never ending water. i could trace the stars with my thumb as they moved. (imagine, you’re alive for billions of years, knowing and seeing). the sirens sink to the deep thick bottom of the; river, lake, sea, ocean. their long hair sweeping their backs: burning their backs. burning constellations in their backs that i could trace with my thumb, nakedly, in the thick black; river, lake, sea, ocean, skies, galaxies. (imagine being alive for billions of years, until our galaxy collides with her). the sirens, the mermaids, they sing in the moon and the sea. they see what we don’t see. so i follow the mermaid and the constellations on her back as she brings me home to the sand dunes. shhhhh. hear the wasps and the crickets and the grains of sand moving against each other. the mermaids, they kiss in the water and i can
ScrawlingsA ninety foot tall cross bordered in stable white neon; above it another sign, running red and white lights. It reads “Hope” for a few seconds, switches to “Dope” then back again. Caution: causes seizures in those prone to epilepsy. At the bottom, men with nicotine-stained fingers stir great pots of jambalaya. Occasional cigarette ash drops into the pots for seasoning. Look up; yellow-tooth smile.More Like This
Up on a lonely hill a woman plays violin. A classical tune that I don’t know, something about the wind in the trees. There are no trees here, though, only rocks and ocean. She hears bells in the distance, calling her home, but she hasn’t finished her song. The last note has to be played before she can go. Her mother weeps.
I heard a woman read her poetry today… such a clear and beautiful voice. My own has grown ragged and rough with too many years of smoke and drink. We should read something together, I think; her one stanza and I the next. Some