Thursday, March 31, 2011

Славск, 31-й декабря


soviet park

that day we walked along the paths in the sweltering heat of mid-day. the miserable linden trees looked just as thirsty as we were, but the people napping in the shade make the memory feel cool anyway.


and there's nothing that you've said or done that could possibly make me change my mind about


what a good day that was.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

kumari


token of love and remembrance

Sunday, March 27, 2011

šťastie je biely dom






Thursday, March 24, 2011

my concubine


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

if there was a god

i'd beg him to sew my lips together
bind my hands
drown me in the waters of life so i
could take in all of the world's beauty
without spoiling it
breathe the fresh air without polluting it
with my ego turds

since there is no god, i'll
make beauty til my fingers bleed,
til i wither up and die
as another drop in the fucking bucket

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

oh horror of horrors





Monday, March 21, 2011

guts

Her haughty expression isn't at all tempered by the years of rain that washed her face away.
Amidst the others, in their varied states of decay, I'd know her even if she had no face at all.

Who made them, these ancient idols? Clasping their chests as guts and arteries punch out in all directions.

light, the anti-tear


Monday, March 7, 2011

after the storm


broken, crumpled,

like dead little birds

the umbrellas are scattered,

forgotten on lexington ave


7 black

2 red

and one grey