Monthly Archives: September 2015

Break fast, the morning, mourning meal

“Breakfast But the words ran together Leaving him without their meaning Or intent. A scrambled egg and a mother’s milk, Some caffeine to jangle the sensibility; One screaming head line Inked To act as spur Set him afoot and restless in our Common world. “Would we really know ourselves?” Here, shake hands with the devil. […]

Memory scratched at his closed eyes

“Memory scratched at his closed eyes And growled through his sleep; But weeping was a year or so away. Carefully he released the blinds, And reaching for the cancer stick, Lit it And puffed himself into the day. Another one.” Mornings, alone are always the same. We slip into routines, and there is no one […]

The painted mirror lied

“Deceitfully the painted mirror lied its daily wages. And all the rages and the storms Contained themselves In the early morning shower Or the bath at night, Coupled as they were To the noonday washing of his hands.” As a young man reading about certain ancient Mystics in India who took odd bodily positions and […]

The Painted Mirror

The Painted Mirror “The room surrounded him: Objects of desire Obtained by firing his imagination And hiring in its stead A head of numbers and receipts.” We are not designed to live alone, and in fact we don’t. Our efficiency, one room and a half apartment, holds our costumes and our play things, and we […]

The adolescent poet no longer

section one of the Hunched Man is concluded. The next blog will begin section two: the Painted Mirror