weather such that the man is moved to write about taking a walk.  a walk he steps out of to attend a street play put on in order to raise awareness.  they trouble him but not deeply the dramatic women on the verge of girlhood.  nonetheless his despair deepens and he feels he must widen his search to include the beast in its youth.  he resumes his walk in a past life no different than the one he had.

my father carries a prop wall into a god honest prison scene.  my mother is there with chalk.  in character, her face washes over her face.

-

I am survived by my medically fragile son.  the story of my death is told to me by his future wife.                    

-

demesne.  a word from dream number three.

This gun thing on the news it scares me so,
appears in schools and homes, beware the gun!
The kids will be in trouble, they should know,
they cannot make the shape of it for fun.

Don't eat a pastry till it looks like one,
or shape a Play-Doh mountain like an "L".
The teachers quake in anger, looking stunned.
You'll see the principal before the bell!

And even pointing fingers, they can tell,
your index and your thumb, if from the side
looks like a gun, they'll sound the scary knell,
and grab the kids into a room to hide!

As if you'd **** a finger when you pull it,
and out will come a magic deadly bullet.

(C)2013, Christos Rigakos

the two begin to talk.  I listen from a nearby table but am perhaps too deep inside my own head.  I am recently divorced from a childhood fever now living happily in my right knee.  my left knee suffers from a sameness.  the two begin to kiss but they don’t know it.  I suspect each of them has been born more than once.  I intend to keep them.  every pregnancy is different.  a kind of kidnapping.

he built a church
from the nothing
around it.

-

not all
have a disabled child
to write about.

-

he built a church
from the nothing
around it.

I want you to hurt me

I want to be reminded that I am never alone,
that hundreds of bacteria are following
that plants are alive except when they brown

I want you to ****
every little thing that is wrong with me

I want the wallpaper to peel & drape over us
while we touch I want to
reveal the ugly parts of everything else

I want you to unzip my dress
and tongue where my spine ends

I want these moments to be enough for fairies
to permeate my intestines with glitter
so I can look pretty when you break my heart.

these photographs stole your soul for a moment
when I could have clutched it in hand,
I opted to observe you under glass
and right now you are in bed, I am in bed too
but there is another realm where you are
captured by pixels & we are sitting side by side.