Fandango

Fandango

The last few bars of Mysticali Rose drifting down the street mixt with dust and rolling mesquite the beat lingering there in that corner where heat gathers itself up into a knot of tangled memories and squats in a heap of rags and print and sighs out loud for...
Song of Gog

Song of Gog

… And when the thousand years are expired, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison, And shall go out and deceive the nations  Which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog, to gather them together to battle: The number of whom is as the sand of the...
Fragments from the Gone World

Fragments from the Gone World

  XXVII Simonides of Keos inventor of the art of memory said that painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks. He knew the true poet’s wish: to make a poem whose images speak to so many people that its words live on forever. But forever is much...
Vanity, All Is Vanity

Vanity, All Is Vanity

Sometimes I want to be like Wang Wei or any other Chinese poet silent on a cold mountain top looking down on corrupt civilization and the brutality of all species struggling to live out their days feeding on others. Sometimes I want to be like Bruce Wayne with a dark...
Resurrection and Ascension

Resurrection and Ascension

                   After reading the morning news Such properties as these do make me funk. I shall go outside and become one with ducks, who must for now remain invisible, even though they seem indivisible from my poor twisted psyche today in a world full of grand...