There was something about the trees: Their burning leaves, Curling up on the ground In a black-gray fog. Their burning leaves A dark sadness, full of regret In a black-gray fog. Dead fruit rotting on the earth: A dark sadness, full of regret, As our cold tongues inspired to speak like Dead fruit rotting on…
Category: Creative
Hey, Ocarina!
First you take some clay and mold it ’til it’s hollow, Then you make some air holes that your fingers ought to follow, Then you play a ditty or a paean to Apollo… Hey, ocarina! — ptkh 09.27.10
Scream
A slow keening spread out across the landscape like a nuclear blast, slow at first and then enveloping everything in its wake. It was several moments before he realized that the noise was silent but within his own head. He looked around, deafened by the cacophony, at the faces of the people on the street…
Mulberries
this afternoon, i found a mulberry stain on my orange shirt it looked like a bullet wound, dark purple in a sea of pure, bright color it wasn’t a splatter: that would have looked artistic, or deliberate, or at least reckless this was a single drop an ellipse stained into my chest just above my…
Moments #3
I had always played right field, except for the year. Right field was reserved for the worst player on the team, because it was junior little league (whatever they called it when there was still a machine on the pitcher’s mound instead of a player), and so hardly anyone ever hit the ball into the…
minefields
we are minefields walk daintily around the ruts you find each day, we lay out more and bury them just under the surface of the loam we are minefields stretched out across the barren landscape beneath a killing moon asleep, still sleeping, beneath a killing moon — ptkh 06.12.10
coffee stains
Would that it were that easy to retain for a moment in the mind the sensation of a whisper percolations and perambulations roll around inside the divining and we are left, a moment too late, without and without — ptkh, 06/03/10
Sandlot
A caveat: Being deliberate is not the same as being meaningful. I sketched the figure of your face in the sand to remind me of something I’ve since forgotten. I took a photograph although your visage is hard to see in the print, because of the angle of the sun and how fragile the negative…
Burlap
my soul was rent asunder by a jigsaw of ice and fire that tore my flesh i was left jagged and alone drowning in the gore of indolence i gathered myself into a burlap sack in justification of nothing and scattered my ashes into the winds — ptkh 04.30.10
Moments #2
Out beyond the fields behind the elementary school, there were seasonally transitory ponds that attracted various wildlife, such as ducks and frogs. This is where the fanged ones lived. We never went out there; the farthest we’d go was the edge of the ball diamond, where the adults would put up markers to let us…