Burn

Life is slow here in a border town where lazy palms scantly twitch in dead breezes— dry and pollen-choked. Everywhere. Nowhere. Cattle, brown against my hand and an expanse of cloudless blue, meander aimlessly, chewing cud that never quite hits the spot. Their eyes, like minds— blank— close to things made new by the blessing… Continue reading Burn

Cobwebs of the Morrow

What is all this sticky, dreadful stuff, that so hideously twines about the wrists and ankles of the mind, tripping us up at every turn? A twisted skein in which we find our vectors crystallized! Even when we free ourselves, ever so briefly from that waxy, sucking matrix, we see the terrible fang marks, dotting… Continue reading Cobwebs of the Morrow