BLUEPEPPER

something vogue bullet points summarizing beauty always leave exit wounds - Jordan Hoxsie 2016 at thi...

Bye - the - Bye By Barnes Pond SW13 on a bright spring morning The accident of the molecular. All heads: men ...

The Age of Rubbish I rode my bike through the last days of the rubbish dump over shallow hills covering the was...

Through the Window after Julia Darling I shall heave up and nudge an extra pillow at my back, enjoy the tea you left lik...

Ludwig’s Riff Unlike my desk or room and bookcases the garage is a mess that hides things. The extra set of scr...

The Light Behind Our Eyes Is An Explosion Are you on fire yet? Do you know the way? What is everyone waiting fo...

song of the wounded horse 18 year old girl naked & beautiful in the room at the end of the hall and will you be the one ...

Towards the Sea Where the burn joins the river the language of water is verbs, rushing from the hills and the fie...

Ascension It is a weekend of ascension and seawater. Your face still haunts me. She shows her face and all I see is love. Th...

Picnic All this time later, I still hear the screams of a lizard flailing in the clutches of a brahminy kite,...

Bow and Scrape  How freeing, to bow out; there's wisdom in it.  Mind's tumescence halted.  What's twisted in you ...

Meeting Dad Again My father emigrated from Ireland to the United States in the early 1920s. He had been released from Spike Island by t...

Weather-worn Woman My heart is an ocean of hopes on which you sail. My heart is a storm-battered barque in an...

Dark Falls by Railway Lines/ The Murderer’s Motif How the souls cry out their battered endings from this shallo...

Taxi, oh Winding through The early dark, the usual identity parade Unfolds, beyond The window’s glass. But...

Reports from Paris 1. "So" Since drinking hurt her stitches, it was more out of habit than anything else she still wen...

To the Wallace Stevens of art Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowled...