cloverleaving through the night cleaving unto what’s right seething is disbelieving: – they chickens , they goats – “don’t trust … More
The man w the moth in his mouth
The colt-leggèd girls, never see the dawn
The heifers in curls See always the dawn, Bolt-on Spray-on Turnbuckled their pearls
The pretty brown-haired blue-eyed debutante in the walker: You could put it down to a skiing accident But it’s August … More
We watch palsied pickpocket partridges pluck feathers from plenty war bonnets
Birds-o-paradise from brownfields stagger on broken heels, wear hats that hang like crimes confessed, like sodden cigarettes, like tin-snipped ailerons, … More
The man w the moth at his throat
The woman in the Jim Dandy Bar, w her bloodstain of an eruption, of a fascinator, crisis, of a hat; … More
Them ladies w smiles peeled personal-trainer tight, kerosene tits set to ignite, their husbands a-strafe their bedroom superfund site
but the anus still between us, and also with us, father; the rectum pre-speculum the rosebud as yet un-rodded
Them high-heeled little girls, sure, sure, their hope-chest hymens come high-five unhinged.
Watching all the young Turks playing grownup in grownup clothes w grown up cigars & hats
All them well-heeled hornets w hummingbird legs and their stillborn eggs
At one point, we each of us get one very stupid fucking lieutenant. The unreachable one. The unteachable one. The … More
This bull, he bellow his death. This final bull, he take the thunder over his knee. This bull he tell … More
For this bull: 1. Death, he take his time. 2. Death, he file his nails. 3. Death, he take a … More
I come for you hombrelitos. I call for you by name. I bring to you your shame. I steal from … More
What troubles the mules is not the presence, the loiter, the stink, of death, rather the intrusion upon one’s dying.
The elephant he come for the bull the nod of heads, the “ Okay, my friend … “ the trunk … More
The bull he walk off, like the elephant for his own words, with his own death. The quick understanding the … More
My mouth is a Moorish gate of rhinestones and piercings and spikes.
Our stones shear, like our religions, whose fall so near. There’s the catch, the shiver, the beg for a river. … More
¡ Yeah, gargoyle ! ¡ Arribasé la cabeza ! Lift high your head ! Prepare to receive the bread, Baked … More
Our stones, they shear, they sheer like our religions.
I, the bull, became more tired than I ever knew was possible to grow tired and so sleepy and they … More
one calls out for that friend that saves the catch of breath that says “i know you, i see you, … More
The high thin clouds of memory persist blown like stirred like coffee dregs, stirred like gnats by a summer wind … More
the pain buys less drink every day only the high thin clouds of memory persist blown like stirred like coffee … More
Logline In this prequel to CASABLANCA, RICK BLAINE flees the wrath of a Harlem gangster and winds up using his … More
Review Era: 1930s Locations: International Budgets: High Genre: Action & Adventure, War Adventure, Drama, Period Drama, War Drama Logline RICK … More
Review Era: 1930s Locations: New York, Le Havre, Djibouti, Madrid, Paris, Barcelona Budgets: High Genre: Drama, Period Drama, War Epic … More