archives

Miscellaneous mistakes

This category contains 88 posts

Things

Things have never been worse. It’s in the creakiness of the economy, the deflationary flop of your dollar, the way your pants no longer fit anymore. It’s in the sloppiness of the hasty mornings, the way they spill over like slush into the afternoon. It’s in the business meetings where you yawn audibly, in the … Continue reading

Scarf it down

Sometimes I wonder why I am still in this city and I will see a pigeon with a wing broken and its bone sticking out and its wobbling into traffic and I rush to save it only to be greeted by a man from Bulgaria, a man with an accent like a muffler and a … Continue reading

Corona Virus

If there is anything I think we are meant to do in this lifetime, it is to do everything to ensure others can think about anything livelily. In medicine, I often see the reverse. People are fed disinformation. They’re sick and dying and grasp on to whatever floats while they sink. Any advice is good, … Continue reading

A pier

You and him, Marriage wastes. I have seen the fumbling fall of my grandparents, the way that has been years since they have really spoken to each other, how their hands forget what it means to be held, though the wrinkles keep the memories of worn adoration. I have watched my parents tussle over divorce … Continue reading

The Problem

Office. Mid-noon. Hunger depressing into tunneling thought like a bad screensaver. Burgers. Fries. Que the bad screensaver. A smorgasbord of family pictures perforate the embattled monitor. They are discoloured and warped. A Post-it-note on the top corner reads ‘fix computer’. It too is yellowed, curling, bending like the finger of the elderly woman now on … Continue reading

Rags

This is something I wrote for a fashion company I worked for that made me wear. * The future is a shaky present, a blowback to a past that is either forgotten accidentally or otherwise never digested fully. It’s a never-ending nowhere, a hope to put a flag onto a land that has no country. … Continue reading

they never fit anyway

now that i am no longer a poet, i do not see the birds sculpting the sky or the rivers with those long, luscious names or the love that will eclipse the previous loves. rather, dogs poop. i poop. there is poop under my shoe. and scrubbing now, i understand now how someone can easily … Continue reading

what’s good

this be that good but not that good that it is great but not that bad that it is terrible but just good enough like a drive away from the city, though there’ll be traffic, or like a seeing a flower spring from the ground, though it is still too cold, or like you liking … Continue reading

florero

i am a still life. i am a potted flower desperately bending to any sunlight, including your own. i am the water that dies through breath. i am the breathing, bold discussion on how art is useless but so are we. i am we trying to not try to spend the day in bed. i … Continue reading

webbed fingers

to feel your weight, to kiss you in every lovely place, to watch your gentle grace, to listen to you saying i compliment you too much, to compliment your voice as you say, to sit in silence, relaxed, stretched as sunlight, as flowers flowing, as straight when morning cuts in golden and generous mumbling, please, … Continue reading

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