Argentine Tea Time

iced passion tango you and me, querido little here, little there your claws around my jugular black and white stiletto wrapped around your ego we dance the dance not saying much we're doing what we know and me, a tea cup, spitting into your mouth, which only swallows

On Trust

"I live my life in widening circles that stretch out over the world. I may not complete this last one, but I give myself to it." Rainer Maria Rilke


I don't want to blow out the candles of your past lives. I want to know, what about the fire did a younger you find welcoming and tender? What about these candles comes into your body and mind troubling you with shadows and taking your focus elsewhere? I do not wish to know the name... Continue Reading →


She rides a borrowed bike between Berlin streets and graffiti piles-- the sky is gray, but not sad, and all day it will not rain, though it could have whenever it wanted to. She arches her back for better posture, but the clouds are rather heavy. Left down Schönhouser Allee left the map at home... Continue Reading →


Then one day, the Princess walked the knight to the train, where he kissed her and bid her goodnight. Turning away, his armor unhinged and fell to the ground, trailing behind in a little stream. The Princess waited. She waited a long time. Six months went by and by then the stream had grown into... Continue Reading →


Every Sunday the Knight walks the Princess to the train Her gait soft like a penumbra His legs light like fire. Every Sunday, the Knight walks the Princess to the station, she always makes him wait. He waits gladly. She waves a wand her eyelash; he sings into her ear. She rewards him. Within a... Continue Reading →

What is a thing?

Does it hinge on a string? Does it call itself Miss or Mister? Are things between things also things? Like flings? And what about their shadows? Do they do things—sweet or sinister? Would a drop of water make it grow? Would a drop of water make it sink?

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