Joseph M. Gerace
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untitled, 012520142200
what characters?what images?thenwhat emotions? & how that blanknessprojects, flickersonto the clean white wall. where? where is the heroism?(cocksure bravado of loss?the drowning sonsaltwater bites his lungshis inutile handbreaking the ocean’s lens? ooh, thereI’ve gone and given itaway—retreat!peel through the pteridophytaknee-high, back to skull-island. they’ll remember you if you tell themwho? what character? which image? emotion? and what will they…
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Who Is Not Me But a Metaphor
It’s OK Say it No Out loud Good, good Next time yr held Or perhaps holding — that Core warm brand of love — Say it, again Just above a whisper It’s OK Say it To the sea wind To the cheap crumpled bed sheets by whom? To that masterfully grown blood orange…
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Notes from a dream, 1215-172013
1. “Ashuver Sixlio” 2. “As I failed to shoot the dog” 3. Lot of dreams tonight. I curse myself for not waking to sketch them along the way. But last among them: On the streets of NYC, with Andrew as sort of assistant, photographing the street. Lots of people. Smiles but also secret shooting of the…
anxiety, art, cigarettes, decim8, dog, dreams, girls, guns, holidays, image, incantations, night, photography, sleep, smoking, target, television, unknowable, x-files -
warm /in/
the brutal dew crystallized crawlingwonders between heat lifeglaze all warm lightthis voicelong after deathlost /in/ witness what sublingual shadeby what bent recollectionunder which narrowed whothere of loveconcrete of for c.t., c.o.
wikipoem.org 