zinc words & images

  • Empty text

    I don’t have the skills or the grace to do this, to know what to do to keep you connected despite our distance. Letters and phones seem insufficient to love you and I’m not really part Of this pictionary future. No one taught me how to make anything long term. Really, I could make this…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #3

    What is a gift? “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” and every single person that covers it. This body, as broken as it is. My magnolia tree and fresh bread and good butter. Mark Rothko. The intersection in front of Mother India, and the beautiful fragrance I can smell while stopped at the red light. The…

  • Musings on a Single Topic #2

    What are phantoms made of? stardust memories The mist from lava dropping into the ocean ectoplasm open doors blowing curtains words spoke softly dim lamps with antique shades beaded curtains crackling branches padded steps on a wood floor lost loves good advice, in retrospect dappled forest light letters photographs portraits historic markers a large single…

  • Der Blauen Kunstler

    When you paint a house on canvas it must be blue, for this is the color of home. The soft robin’s egg edges of motherly relationships, the deep indigo of sleep and dreaming begins at your hand. Reunions, a pale sky of ephemerous greetings and embraces. However wayward the color of distant foothills and city…

  • To My Friend, On the Occasion of the New Year

    Keep trying. The end may be nigh, but you aren’t. Whether you disappear beneath the ground or into the sky- whether we return to our mother’s wombs on our weeping knees, or settle into salty oceans, you and I are fathoms we cannot depth. The inkblot, the zeroes and ones that trail our names are…

  • Who You Are

    I’ve got the ambition of my friends written all over my hands, under my arms, at the soles of my feet. Those words tho- invented, aligned, melodious, never unkind. I wonder did we pass at some point when time was not binary and a dime could call you home. At the movies were you in…

  • April 23

    We picked up where we left convivientes and conspirators looking to chase the showering moonlight. you held my hand, lead the way to the dawning. I cannot forgive the path for not returning you. Life wicked off in my hand and midnight recesses recall your visage in reflection, shadowed memory. Floating above your twin bed…