Narrative Audio
Once, while lying on a beach up northin California, I saw a whale’s spout,an explosion of released water,a trumpet’s blurt blasting from underneath the thick blue carpet of Pacific Ocean,a quick glimpse—a firefly’s blink-flash,the blinding orb of sunlightreflecting off
He asks me for a song, so I sing one just for him. I sing of these unholy gifts stolen from within the refuge of music. A pale moon loiters among the geometry of stars. They know about us:
She was shaded in fragments of yellows and blues. Found lost in a window of heavenly stains, Stashed away in an unknown frontier, Considering intently with a hum of nerve connections and synapses alike. All encapsulated in a hue
I had a little porcelain pig I played with as a kid not a piggy bank mind you just an ugly pink pig it walks over here over there, hiding behind a pillow and coming out I don’t know
I share my room with a colony of memories, they live inside my blankets and pillows, and come fluttering out at night when I dream. They flit here and there across my bedroom scratching on the remnants of my
Smoke it like a cigarette, don’t chew it like a cigar unless you first truly study the wet & shining tip of a panatela—how tender, how slick when just lit, what delight to bite delicately as you smoke it
