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space I spent years in booze’s blackest forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading U... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  The Titans knew their end was coming. They’d seen the portents roiling in the wave-roar of storm, their dreams full-gulleted and ripe with rank steam. It meant the end of words of first only-ness, Oceanus all wet, Hyperion over … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Tear all your postcards as fine as plastic sand: Red tide means suffocation: Can you understand? Spawned by human waste from sources agricultural and septic, algae courses and spreads, devouring all the oxygen in water, killing all us seafolk. … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  We aren’t walking any more in their burnt miles and there aren’t songlines for homing elsewise. The music winds a charred cleff of animal smoke. Half of them died in the blaze, the other half died over the next … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  A dream of gathering all jobs from my past in some auditorium but a formal / foreign event is in there now and / or it’s collapsed— Roof now ruined floor, heads here and there in louche uproar. Either … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Here’s a skull now; This skull hath lien you i’ th’ earth three-and-twenty years. —Clown gravedigger in Hamlet, Act V, scene 1 He is a ghost, a shadow now, the wind by Elsinore’s rocks or what you will, the … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I’m learning to write the way I always yearned to play piano. Not the upright in the family parlor that I banged on trying to read sheet music for a year.  Nor the spinet in a college rehearsal room when … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I spent years in booze’s black forest, blundering every night from road to bar to road to bed like some hunter-gatherer of the Abyssal Age, so deep and lost inside the wild of uncorked spirits that blackout was the only … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  You can feel the dead pressed in this air and up to your feet as you walk these idle lanes where sacred groves were profaned. Centuries of settling wilderness, axing into the old forest and evicting the natives. Of … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  The renewal’s out there in a great wide haze lingering in deep night like the world’s own shade or ours—who can say—black and void except where the streetlights delve it, or a passing car, a lingering width of fume … Continue reading &... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  Warming Arctic tundra is giving up its dead— mammoths and rhinos, bison and horses, a puppy, a hunter & a wolf’s-head: Deep-frozen for millennia, melting permafrost now harvests livid ages lost long ago. Vanished time is blooming in the … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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  To Venus we are come, monstered by July’s tomorrow Florida, A roil of steam blistering a cot 800 joules too hot. Our bodies pierce shattered panes of broken atmospheres; we kiss the shreds and hiss pink shear. Who wouldn’t … Continue reading →... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com

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space I was born in ‘57, the burble-foamy crest of the baby boom, a pinnacle of whiteness which has spent my life crashing whitely down with its bright surge, cream tide, latex sheen. Spreading the privilege of white birth like a cloud of … Continue reading ... mehr auf blueoran.wordpress.com