scholia 73

Solitude is the gift that leaves but noble few of us as ingrates.

swanston st 4

you crest fallen in medias res,failed by parent-teacher conference,failed by bonaparte and hitler, and all the likely suspects,now resting christmas eve quiet,now sitting in mcdonalds at two am,not answering your phone

swanston st 2

You see beauty beyond comprehension and not the beauty found beyond comprehension, and turn away then, down some odd alleyway, between the cogs unseen, amongst the automaton angels partying just over the horizon, its approximately 1:45 in this English bracket clock, in other words, you're a chime I wouldn't mock.

swanston st 1

Two words worse than most,burn victim,or skin graft,or korean karaoke,and yet we have all threeparked on this corner of paradise,belting it out this quandong,skin all ripped rye rubber,why'd a sparkwhy'd a petroleumburn the doughboythe subway smelland the little neck bones on tramsof intimate motions,out of windows, into doorways,a sparrow whistle, a hullo,admiration, sweet denigration,my boy, … Continue reading swanston st 1