an illicit kiss in jersey fucking city
sent his gyroscope akimbo one night
and she knows something which you cannot
if you believe it merely a trifle
inflection points in biography maps
scurry into dark recess under scrutiny
like shy but menacing cold-eyed eels
biding moments to deliver destiny’s sting
yoni not unlike the tongues of cows
insisting, not inviting, clutching raw, velcro
leaves an imprint beyond all wishing’s pull:
seed revealed once these bodies decompose
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Icker’s youthful reportage on how the convent dwellers of his 6th-grade schoolyear approached a certain disciplinary incident in the classroom. (A previous adventure from Icker’s formative years can be found here).
A changing of the guard took place over the summer between 5th and 6th grades: the two chief mover-and-shaker nuns at St. Aloysius had been replaced.
in an enclave, in a city
of an evening aroused
The first two photos are snaps of the infrequently seen (for me) Chestnut-Sided Warbler. The image on the right is an American Redstart, somewhat more common (for me). Click to enlarge. Both are North American warblers and both paid me a visit on my morning walk today.
A timeless dialogue between love and the loved, or is it spirit and soul, or woman and man, or angelic and human, or forgiver and transgressor, or wise Sophia and turbulent Psyche…
In the wake of Mark Zuckerberg’s public vacillating over the culpability of Facebook regarding its user base data privacy, a follow-up to last month’s ‘public service announcement‘ about the impact of the web on our social cohesion and culture.
Stardate: Vernal Transition. Log Entry of a temporary explorer, mysterious even unto himself, native of the ephemeral eternal periphery, adwell awhile in this earthwise body, planet orb #3, sunstar #unknown, galaxy #13…