Every child born… — Mel, trudged along, winding through the streets of the Windy City, his mind entrenched deep in unconquerable territory and his shoulders hunched against the bitter cold of discontent. …

The Scent of Visions I dreamt again, and again my soma was defined exquisitely, attuned to every endearing notion, every haunting caress. I know it was in the wee hours, just as the sun began to filter through my thoughts, particles that dilated the irises of my eyes, and were…

Ado About Nothing — — Today, as the limbs of this — this expatriated window I glance through, draws me ever closer, wrapping its cloying arms around me — everything is, much of a muchness Choking, familial colours of a primary concern — alizarin streaks across the laden face of the guilty sky, as the…

Because You Saw Me — I’m trapped and the moon, a vagabond dismisses any empathy it may have lit upon my person. But even here in this innominate state, I still feel compelled to write to you and so I write across the awning of my tortured conscience. I ponder if I will have any…

I died… was being held in an anecdotal bastille, the bars, the tethered fever of prolonged, drawn-out nights, where memories restless break through the vinous embrace of my moral barriers. It seems only copulating memories dwell here. My memories overlap the memories of others, likened onto a watered-down scent, that…

Paragraph’s Excerpts From the Fading Distance In the Greek Orthodox faith a child’s hair must not be cut before baptism. It must be kept pure from the cut of the knife, keeping intact its covenant with God. Thus, when a child is anointed in baptism, it must then in return give…

I free the mournful face that hovers on the madness of my window, The sill a library of numerical expressions, and god tiptoes with glass feet On the refracting pane, breaking through the bastion of prison clouds Onto the overcast side of the mirror. …

3 am struck, it tolled, muffled as though it was breaking through the lining of the drenched tatters on the textile of the night The stars, came ever closer, detached from their glow, they dolefully rivaled the glaze of an aphotic faience They those, unnamed sprites of the sky, transient…

I drag the burden of my estimated weight — minus my soul, seven stones boulted into seven grains of untouched intimations, of a muffled voice that cries in the hours of my dreams— My soul a pitted drupelet that breaks through the membrane that encircles my world, hidden, and yet…