. fortress .

. mistaken .

you in belated leap
casting me as seeking
resurrection
adoration

misunderstanding
i am just an author
writing truth behind sweet
lies

seated at the Loom
heart rent yet held tight
to breast board

she deals in silks
sweet, grey
and golden metal threads


. drift .

seated watch a drift
cigarette smoke
some L5 balance point
urethane surround
inhale exhale billow snap
Heather has my head
in want
on break


. fortress .

The walls are cracked, thick and ancient and badly cracked with the ribs of the plaster lathe exposed in the one large room. Over there, by the worn wooden French doors that view the avenue, there’s water damage to the flooring. “How much?” I ask the agent.

It’s like Bucharest in a minor way; these buildings along East Main bring back some memories. They aren’t the huge hive things of sector six or two, or the lovely old failing structures of sector one, but their condition and some of the appointments on the interiors put me back there. It’s made me sad and the agent has seen that. He’s concerned that it’s disappointment in what my money will get me.

“Three fifty but the heat and water are included.” It’s a central boiler system, with the old style upright accordion radiators, and I’ve never seen an upright radiator that was clean or new and so the paint on it is thick and chipped and woven inside with dusty cobwebs. “Can you get a cleaning crew in for me?” I know the bathroom is going to be horror show.

“Let’s look at the kitchen” he says. “It’s not as bad as you might expect.” I nod and we pick our way through the accumulated trash toward an unhung doorway to the left, the same wall with the larger than usual entryway. The fixtures are from the 1920s, dark tinted copper, with flower petal mounting cones and fluted glass shades or bowls if on the ceiling. I’ve seen that sort of ancient Art Deco craftsmanship before and know that if cleaned and polished properly they will shine like newly minted pennies; something Bucharest never had due to the scavengers. Things are not quite that bad here in the US, yet, stripping buildings like these is far down on the copper trade list.

He’s right, whoever held this fortress before had managed not to chip and break all the tiles in the kitchen, and the stove is gas and not rusted or caked with crud. There are water stains and chips on the porcelain of the sink but it’s original equipment so iron beneath the finish. “Ah you have a nice smile” he says, and I raise my hand to my face and feel that yes, my teeth are even revealed. “Three fifty?” “Yes and I’ll have a cleaning service come in and do your list.” “The radiators to?” He laughs, “Yes we’ll get rid of the spider nests for you.” I nod and turn my back on him. I don’t want him to see me thinking of the first snow last year, I don’t want him to worry while the empty streets and dirty tram windows flow through my mind. “Okay, how much of a deposit?”


. after .

these tears of anger

flow harsh and sunlit

desert sands smoothing

my broken after

bu benim yar