New World Writing

June 21, 1984
Deaf Smith County, Texas

I.

Moonshot Rodriguez used to mash up light­ning bugs and smear them on his front teeth. His grand­pa had named him, and told him the grave­yard was haunt­ed with the light of spe­cial lives. Moonshot believed him. He –more

I walk across the street, bring­ing the Sangria I con­coct­ed, the veg­an choco­late truf­fles, the banana bread I made for the first time with­out eggs. I have fun bak­ing and cook­ing stuff that is pre­sumed to be healthy.

I see these peo­ple often, wav­ing –more

My best friend, Olivia, was a sar­dine wedged into her father’s base­ment, liv­ing in the space between two pressed palms, cocooned under the ground. Maybe that’s why she always talked about things that go up, up, up. She want­ed to be a pilot, or –more

Quelle Horreur

After years and decades of hor­ror sto­ries, movies, TV shows, graph­ics & adver­tis­ing the actu­al does not, can­not pos­si­bly, pen­e­trate. Not when it comes from the same screens and talk­ing heads. Unreal. All vast­ly unre­al. Especially so to the young –more

I’m in bed today. I can’t get out. I hear peo­ple, heavy foot­steps on the rick­ety porch where we some­times sit at a table and talk at dusk. I hear peo­ple knock­ing on the door, call­ing my name, espe­cial­ly Estelle. She was sup­posed to come help with –more

a son­net sequence

I.
You are lucky you have your masks,
near­ly all your per­son­al pro­tec­tive
equip­ment. And you have your
instruc­tions. The virus pro­to­col
is a com­plete code of life.
Use the Coronavirus –more

It occurred to me today that The Occupant is like a pro­fes­sion­al wrestler. His con­tin­u­ous­ly aggriev­ed per­sona is devoid of any inte­ri­or­i­ty, a boom­ing, buzzing con­fu­sion of self-ref­er­en­tial signs con­tin­u­ous­ly sig­ni­fy­ing. His face is a mask, as in antiq­ui­ty, –more

Journal of the Plague Years: Two

I pick words like fruit, feel­ing for those most preg­nant with mean­ing
but not already hav­ing meant.
A man is an island. How to guard on so many fronts?
I’ll drop by the poem store today, –more

NORTH KOREA

In Pyongyang City we pause
at the founders’ por­traits.
For a moment we are mes­mer­ized
and then move on—some will dance
near the foun­tains at Mansudae
and some will board the train
for the north­ern provinces.

Life’s a spec­ta­cle of ghosts
in –more

1.

One hun­dred and ten meters to the top of Mount Faber on old, cracked steps fringed with cool aro­mat­ic green­ery that hint­ed at the for­mer jun­gle. Long-tailed squir­rels mis­tak­en for rats in the first glimpses; mynahs the only vis­i­ble bird-life and the –more

1.

Hey dude, I know your birth­day is com­ing up and I was think­ing of you. Sorry we lost touch. Just want­ed to say hi.

2.

Hey dude, Your birth­day is com­ing up and some­times I think about you, and about reach­ing out to say hey.

I’ve been back to San –more

we sang as we loaded the cat­a­pults and launched new days. the pay­load was potent and we aimed for the hori­zon.
          ~ Graffiti at the Municipal Government Center ruins

Franklin Ritter slept beneath a blan­ket of bees. He curved his back until –more