On the first page of my scroll I'm in a small provincial cityIn a frisky foreign country The apartments all darkenedMinuscule storefronts shuttered Hours before a suggested curfewIt's always a cool and calm evening My traditional "sober" mask in onI'm walking past a trim street corner Where I admittedly shouldn't beAlone, wavering and coatless againOut … Continue reading Trashed

A boy collected dried elks from gangling husks in Jersey kicked land moved north on purple quails randomly several tried understanding Victor who x-rayed young zigzaggers

Sand is always unsteady Never still Where will it end up Stop stirring When will the breeze tire Break free Will it escape the moon, Or clap With a sizzling audience Carrying warmth Swirl through cracked roads Remaining fluid Rubbing the darkest corners As freed grains Burring unfamiliar wisdom In the glass By Amaury Genao

suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head. young death sits in a café smiling,a piece of money held between his thumb and first finger (i say “will he buy flowers” to you and “Death is young life wears velour trousers life totters,life has a beard” i say to you who are … Continue reading EP: Suppose

Say that it is a crude effect, black reds, Pink yellows, orange whites, too much as they are To be anything else in the sunlight of the room, Too much as they are to be changed by metaphor, Too actual, things that in being real Make any imaginings of them lesser things. And yet this … Continue reading EP: Bouquet of Roses in Sunlight

Who is really listening to my ludicrous deliberations as I pace nonchalantly during a mid-spring evening, filling glasses with dark rum as the moon ascends above me Chunky clouds cover an elevated ocean hiding incoherent mumbles with a sluggish thrust of Yellow Sea breeze It’s behaving like a hushing white noise, or a full mouth … Continue reading Silent Apartment

On the first page of my dreambook It’s always evening In an occupied country. Hour before the curfew. A small provincial city. The houses all dark. The storefronts gutted. I am on a street corner Where I shouldn’t be. Alone and coatless I have gone out to look For a black dog who answers to … Continue reading EP: Empire of Dreams

You may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you beset with gloom?’Cause I walk like I've got oil wellsPumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns,With the certainty of tides,Just like … Continue reading EP: Still I Rise