The cave man foreboding his arrows & bones like a comet, sketches time’s abode. Under the loins of my work I’m measuring. I’m accelerating. I grind & my lenses become other gravity, or lugubrious monarchies. Where Einstein’s wrath pokes the knot time’s noose digitizes & widens not dimensionally, but with the elasticity of biology. Time’s wrath ticks too kindly. Continue reading Lens & garter by Phillipe Vicente
A dusk stole from an ex-girlfriend, abstracting the breadth and fodder of your mild and precarious affair after the tide of evidence gave a taser to the weekend’s romp. Glories much like eyeliner, the fondness for cash, are the semantics of flesh, how lust sabotages the meditation of the mind, gets folded hands to do the felt thing. You smothered each other just a few … Continue reading Legacy by Phillipe Vicente
The bruising was not unlike the fist emerging through the clenched faces, the red of freshly skinned knees, their hot bones white as blank pages. A punch and I dreamed of water and rose patches. Friends, to whom I’m merely a target and a laugh, kicked me back to life. Their taunts broke me where I dreamed. It was neither school nor prison. I leaned … Continue reading “Lesson” by Phillipe Vicente
