I Am a Rocking Child, Rolling

I am contained by spit and bailing wire, the old go-cart knocked together from peach crates, roller skates, an old wooden skate affixed with bent nails to peach-stained slats. Rocking down hills, round hairpin turns, skipping cracks and gaps. Memory. Bailing wire and gum, glue, thoughts of you. Cocksure and unafraid. Rickety with memory, bound by … Continue reading I Am a Rocking Child, Rolling

A Muddy of Colors

There is a dissipating storm slipping over the tips of the Alps. A broken man begging coins in Houston. A potter with shaking fingers, no longer mending in Calcutta. My shadow eluding me in dark Boston alleyways. Your eyes are headlamps, mirrored windows, light flashes behind my eyelids. There is a snake, listless, long, and leering, at … Continue reading A Muddy of Colors