People
“Singledom” — what a fascinating colloquial, just as the harvest moon masks her dried cheeks we strap our garters tighter as belts expand, gazing against the cracked reflection of yester-more’s public washroom, the… Continue reading
Tag Archive: 100 songs project
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My Heart Will Go On
6am: Eyes snapping open hours before alarm rings Burnt toast Flavoured cereal Old juice Newspapers printed in gibberish 9am Foggy computer screen Bland coffee Paper clips tangled Disarranged documents A tap on the… Continue reading
Cheek to Cheek
There’s no better pull than your sway as we play across the crisscrossed gemmed granite, bouncing luminous lines by your necktie — cheek to cheek and my rosy red foundationed on yours a… Continue reading
Evergreen
Underneath its hundred years, fingers unslipping his knotted scarf and wrapping half around my neck. The late bluebird shivering hopping in snow tracks and eventually losing feathers and beak and mind as its… Continue reading
I Could Have Danced All Night
The last glimpse of slight light, as images of superheroes and soirees blur — and allow the strange sandman inside your room, where he crawls beside you: elsewhere the DJ shifts to metal… Continue reading
Cabaret
Ease your wrinkles — drink Dionysus the mind’s magic marker, unbutton your collar shake off your cufflinks in wondrous dark, it is make- believe we are world humans unbound under transparent masks where… Continue reading
Some Day My Prince Will Come
We would sit by the fireplace and drink hot cocoa with marshmallows, while soft jazz plays from the stereo. He would take my withered hand and put it on his chest as we’d… Continue reading
Somewhere
How can we fold 1000 cranes and let the wind blow them to where they belong, flying, fleeting to their destination? You bumped into me again today, your hand rubbing on my wrist.… Continue reading
Jailhouse Rock
The sharp broken scar on his face betrayed the soul of an artist. Indeed, it has been several sentences when he last heard that called him. He hadn’t been that popular, his name… Continue reading
Everybody’s Talkin’
Home-woven pancho and flaming red hair: the woman staring back at me through the windows of the moving bus; and as it rickets down the road, her scarlet hair follows me: Imagine now… Continue reading