The eye looks The ear waits The hand gropes The heart yearns The body thrashes about the turning wheel, which turns in TIME. ...

And again: the thud of executions echoes in the green ear of Maboula, Cameroon. The tremendous squeak of the assassin's blow and the axe...

Fog swirls, curls around vans, cars, slips ghostlike through bare branches.

Late October Afternoon: A Weak Watery Sun -- Not What it Was But Not Dead Yet.

Ask her what she thinks as she conceals her baby in fallen leaves and detritus. Still-born, still-life. All that waiting, all that love...

Spinoza's Hatchet For the sole perfection and the final end of a slave and of a tool is this, that they duly fulfill the task imposed on...

My thoughts turn to the sea: there the convolutions of time deliquesce into wavelike ease, closer to the rhythms of myself. It is where...

Endless, endless, the downward laminar flow of rain -- Atoms falling through the void

I Adam cultivated Eve by swelling her belly with something so potent that it could only have come from the stone of a forbidden fruit. II...

Penelope weaves a boat of sweet songs while beneath her bibulous boozers scratch beer, play dice. “Declare his bones and...

the air is raspberry sweet it swarms with wings

On the seventh day God came down, dug earth deep and wide, buried Adam in the belly of the planet. From his grave came flowers and fruit...

"A fisherman fingers a long-handled blade, rolls a cigarette, chops herbs and garlic by a charcoal fire ..."

בְּרֵאשִׁית was the command 10 PRINT "Hello Universe" 20 GOTO 10 Unbelievable, breathless, demonic even, how a singular point could yield...

“Raffy the guard   off my body”    She slurs screwing   Vespucci sailor’s   bottle cap    (No molestaré   no iré)     On my part   a...

By Richard Mather Blood, tears, a vial of sea salt, dice, cards, a postcard from Venice. Magic is time and space. Magic is the space...

Marcus Aurelius Arch in Tripoli, Libya, built in 163 C. Original photo by Daniel and Kate Pett (Wiki) a bomb(ard)ed runway is nothing ...

Before I had to chance to complete my creation I was cast down by the rebel angels and made to...

Languages are outposts on the outskirts of being. By voice and by text we perform raids on being, but we find it impossible to capture...

Lord, I have seen the inner workings of man and I am afraid. Poor and pathetic: he is corrupted from the start, living in a blasted...