WEST VINE PRESS BOOK RELEASE DATES (Fall 2016) October 11th. West Vine Press #3 Sampler October 25th. Slow Living by Kenyatta Jp Garcia. November 1st. Poetic Poverty by Andrew K. November 8th. As…
Check out the release dates from West Vine Press which also include my upcoming book – Slow Living.
West Vine Press Moves Words Around To Make Real Books For Real Human Beings.
“who here remains who never rose wild
from captive sleep
hope in dreams?
whose vision is anything less than a weed?
to make the fairytale complete,
there must be a sacrifice. . . ”
Do you feel that your writing is necessarily assumed to be autobiographical? How do you feel about this assumption? I would assume that my writing is read as being autobiographical even when it’s particularly disjointed, disorienting … [Read More]
Been rubbernecking. Keeping an eye out for where time took an odd moment to add an extra scar to the road.
The last ditch that took some effort to carve. To assure a certain waylay for someone just needing to get away.
The truth for all its power sets everybody else free but itself. Instead chooses transformation. Settles for concealment. To be protected from witnessing itself.
Can’t turn my back on myself but my back also won’t look me in my face so what good’s a back anyway? If it didn’t come with the body why would anyone even bother having one?
The faults furthered the cause of the tectonic shifts. Line breaks will always be a part of this world. Each side is a stanza. The earth quakes suddenly understanding another version needs to take place. This place.
purling this timidity into
cities translated by clouds
as forever rests
on gossipers’ tongues.
gulls been fending for
and fending off
longer than this shyness
electricity’s been static
but an experience.
didn’t go / didn’t get
but took in a tear
on receiving news.
for sake of something.
parrots had nothing to repeat.
mockingbirds eased of mimicry.
quieted, calmed –
reflecting on the essentiality
descent comes closer to home
to find the core –
bypass wounds, scars, sore spots
to dismay of symptoms
distracting the cure
in fear, death rises again
heaven from hell
fury from fate
with a distaste being mutual between
needle and cloth
thread – the only common friend –
binds both until
the job is through.
crammed into the corners of the mind –
holding up the walls of theories never to be
a fly holding back the boulder
give up the task
what worse could possibly come?
rain hungers for a face
tongues for a drop
now as much as ever we need space even more.
steel and superpowers.
we been magical
but sorcercery hasn’t been enough.
oh lawd, can a nigga get a force field!
let’s talk that real pillow talk
holding onto hope
when thoughts and prayers have failed
let’s snuggle up into cybernetic fantasies of nanotech
smarter than the biology of fingers
and tin of badges
oh jesus, how much stronger we got to get?
whom does the singularity include?
why couldn’t creation have just been a myth?
electric memories keep eyes lit
all night long computing
while chains keep bodies in place,
while cells provide shelter
when the streets fill up with the phobia generations in the making.
so long in the making time travel has more dangers
than the edge of the universe.
send thoughts and prayers to parallel dimensions.
maybe they’ll be of some use there.
maybe the horizon holds another event
the roads of this dystopia
have yet to find.
what good are the pistons without the gas and the grease?
what’s a mission mean
as acid rain tears at the hood
revealing rust and the algorithms
of a nation
forcing you to drive onward?
what else is there when only space seems safe?
when to leave is the best defense?
because to stay is conflict.
everyday is a casualty.
the struggle is actually an assault.