William

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"courage, my luv....."

1966 / that's it...

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William's Blog Entries

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6 Comments— 15 Kudos

Barren Land

Category: Writing and Poetry

Barren Land here, we go across this car park, where i work,  is a narrow greenbelt, left indigenous, left to the wild, with a creek winding through. i often squander my break on the road bridge, lost in the meandering flow and i  sometimes watch a cluster of carnations, apples and oranges bobbing around the dead limbs, abandoned pails and shopping carts. at times, a Ganesha or a few appear,  disto... » Continue Reading

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considering a photograph once held in the form of

Category: Writing and Poetry

considering a photograph once held and nearly forgotten in the form of the modern love letter  to the ________ before the comma i’ve considered lying to you the honest breath too weak to carry words any distance but even this leaves me cowering behind pages unwilling to face the survey by your eyes your eyes i have built a mausoleum behind my house deep in the woods the woods it holds a horde of b... » Continue Reading

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seeking Sairey Gamp

Category: Writing and Poetry

seeking Sairey Gamp while enduring the damp embrace  of the infection  (the century  still smelling of its neglected piss,  its mouth crusted with dried oats) a heavy limb, a grey limb, a twisted and bare limb - the disarticulated, boney remains of anticipation, was ripped loose by a coarse wind (obnoxiously  screaming itself over rooftops) and landed in my slumbering garden. the stew was left to ... » Continue Reading

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ferris wheel, fishhook, lollipop

Category: Writing and Poetry

ferris wheel, fish hook, lollipop Ferris didn’t invent the wheel. he popularized the endless cycle. he conjugated  a new verb:  the act of going nowhere and the blind willingness to  pay for it. a Sisyphean torture as palpable as apple pie, fresh cut Kentucky blue and a cool evening breeze in August. spinning, laughing children, still unconcerned with terminal bodily harm. financiers and  their sp... » Continue Reading

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2 Comments— 8 Kudos

The Bifurcation

Category: Writing and Poetry

THE BIFURCATION in the empty moment between reach and touch, the great  misunderstanding, i divorced the crimson petal and  the porphyry font or more accurately it closed its covers and abandoned me, to gather dust on another shelf; to seek a fresh interpretation; to hear a deeper reading and i remain  with a tedious  inventory two empty beds, each in their own empty room. empty pages in an otherw... » Continue Reading

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2 Comments— 8 Kudos

a dog, a bird, a bunny

Category: Writing and Poetry

A DOG, A BIRD, A BUNNY     we emerged from our spring as shadow puppets   as the flat, vacant, gray image of another’s contorted fingers   we crawled along distant, unadorned surfaces   we embraced our darkness and shunned dimensions   we worshipped the saints   of nuclear paranoia, of tight flesh in a rhubarb patch, of emotion as absurdism, of spark one up   behind empty warehouses and along low ... » Continue Reading

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enough

Category: Writing and Poetry

ENOUGH my therapist said i've not grieved - enough. i’ve skipped from shock to  getting on. i’ve missed the moment (moment being a ‘the’) i can move on, easily. i can turn off a car  on saturday morning and go into a grocery for eggs, for breakfast i can also burst into tears, without a moments notice cursing my pain, my  frustration, my fears, my confusion, my memories, my emptiness, m y inabilit... » Continue Reading

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prophets in the mud

Category: Writing and Poetry

prophets in the mud 1979, Newfoundland…2010, Gulf of Mexico is it too late for surrender? as a boy i stand on the belly of a pilot whale, a hundred or more stretching the shore  of  point au gaul. these shards of night carried in by the slow, cold hands of the atlantic. billowing black sheets of sorrow. were they crying to the deaf or had they simply resolved ‘it’s not worth it’, and come to lie t... » Continue Reading

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fresh water

Category: Writing and Poetry

fresh water i'm balancing in the middle of a clear, determined river, listening to its ageless song. i'm standing, knee deep, in a north river's cold water on slippery, granite boulders,  waiting with the rainbow trout and speckled frogs. i'd lie down in that river,  to be baptized into the faith of its carelessness; its healing hands smoothing the scars; washing the skin clean from the sticky res... » Continue Reading

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