Archive | September, 2015


29 Sep

I heard

that the perfect magistrate

would judge him like a Kantian

and punish him like a Utilitarian;


Maybe then the world wouldn’t be so fucked up.


Maybe then the cosmos would shuffle into line,

and karma would sync up with consequence

and justice would act as an engineer to the defective

functionality of



The autopsy

concocted headlines that could

entertain the most boring of

Sunday Times readers.

Have you heard?

There are pictures.

That heartless fuck.

He should be shot. 



But maybe,

think intentionality,


guilt deprives him of rest

when his eyes shutter closed,


his tears could irrigate

a field of new life,

a thousand golden roses and tulips to atone for

a mistake.


Maybe monsters only exist in fiction.


6 Sep

India ink harpoons its way into fabric

Strung around alabaster bone,

Staining an olive cloth with polychromic significance,

Injecting an artist’s rendering of alternative beauty

Between the stitches

Of an otherwise ordinary material.


And the canvas draped down the side of my neck

Bends toward the needle

Stationed between veteran fingers,

Tissue yearning to quicken the rate of absorption,

Faster, so that

This masterpiece can be displayed in exhibition

For the ordinary world to consider.


This canvas,

Blank – clear

That conventional parents threaded

And time blemished into ordinary imperfection,

Will irrevocably bear witness to

The colors, the fluidity,

The extraordinary vibrancy that is and will always be

Indicative of me.