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POETRY

Naked Lunch Beginning Excerpt

· WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS ·

Naked Lunch Beginning Excerpt

    and start west I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train..Young, good…

Twelve Heads A Small Price

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Twelve Heads A Small Price

I have seen the sadness in your eyes–that slow drowning, it is also mine.   And the way you plead your cries–the clamoring capricious stare, yare and young–toothless pleading old almost ancient now receding.   These sedentary habits interminably do lavishly let go, languid in their language, far and flowing down below; as an ancient…

Three Jisei

· SAIGYO SOKO SENRYU ·

Three Jisei

  I wish to die in spring, beneath the cherry blossoms, while the springtime moon is full. –Saigyo (1190)     Inhale, exhale Forward, back Living, dying: Arrows, let flown each to each Meet midway and slice The void in aimless flight Thus I return to the source. –Gesshu Soko (1696).     Bitter winds…

The Joke That Never Did Arrive

· ADRIAN VINO ·

The Joke That Never Did Arrive

How did the certainty of this analogous situation disperse without conscience effort on my behalf? The little dubious delvings recalled once and subtle, had tempted a nostalgic arrogance this side of reason. And we tempted fate, you and I, with a levity now benign and bothersome.   How many episodes must one man endure as…

No Place Like Home

· ADRIAN VINO ·

No Place Like Home

The world was unbearable today   vertigogitrev   work with its fading faces    the bodies of those I share space with            if I go away                   another body will replace me        another pair of hands that move  …

Reflections

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Reflections

The reflection is mine…always mine I walk through weeping willows past large homes homes I will never live in   Sounds trapped inside of people and their things I want to say I hear their muffled cries but you and I both know that’s a lie   These summer nights…smell of whispering suicides…in lavender and…

To The Heart Of Olympus

· ADRIAN VINO ·

To The Heart Of Olympus

  The reprieve left a trace in the treble of rejoicing  a voice ascending slightly amid meadows blindly vulpine designed seductively by hunters and gathered forth the dawn   lemon yellow water color bleeding through oscillating an insipid version of your vertigo the delinquent orphan vitiated outline of a person set aside like sketch the…

And Still Wanting

· ADRIAN VINO ·

And Still Wanting

How far has thou fallen renegade of the morning? Did thy wings almost rend you in two whilst you plummeted? The stars surely envied all…

Step

· ADRIAN VINO ·

Another Thursday night, I thought as I unlocked the door to my apartment and felt my place hostage by the summer heat. The dishes in the sink were a crawling creature with ceramic discs for tentacles making its way across the kitchen counter and soon unto the floor. Flies buzzed somewhere in the dining room…