“No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.” – F. Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby [To M.L., his boots stretched on the fireplace] From the shadows we watch his face in the blue half-light of the fire. Hear the draft beneath the door and the fire’s dying…
Tag: fire
The Blinding Day [in the style of Dali]
Sand, his round and empty eyes are staring through horizon’s line, the waves erode his rocky toes while diamonds in his innards brine. They toss like dice as each heartbeat sends sloughs of sluggish sediment, through every throbbing artery to harden all into cement. Night has veiled all but the stars. The statue…