John Dillinger and Baby-Faced Nelson in a dream together - one shooting holes thru theories of his untimely death, the other frying in an old-time (e) Electric Chair with balloons waving, bonbons...
Parable as metaphor - profile in hard glint of light, buckskin garb merging from shadow & buckboards - sandwiching of memory being elbowed thru a Deadwood City saloon door. ...
The anger past as a cat arches her back a thickly rich robust anger blackest coffee in a thick earthen mug this thug & mugger with sufficient silk thread.
"The world's smallest painting ... Our Beautiful Canada was painted with a single hair and the aid of a microscope. The artist considers his price of seven million dollars not too high." ...
They poured hot water into people's cups in which green tea leaves were floating like algae, or into red-painted spittoons placed on the floor which the travellers made frequent use of......
I met Bear at the 5 n' dime sipping a Cream Soda he was voluble & needed to talk... "I got a shit-load on my mind," mumbling something about some run-in with a Mountie - tampering...
If you're going to drop the gauntlet at least put on the dress of a full warrior - paint, rouge, lipstick, sheer stockings and enough powder to smother a savage; then form a straight line...
For one, street argot became tougher. You had to distinguish between what you meant by calling someone a mother. The Black Panther influence, no doubt, but a rejuvenation of the...
raised against them hussars, cossacks, zouaves the renegade janizaries and corsairs in for an indeterminale stretch assorted soldiers of furtune, never-do-wells...
The preciseness of that little moment, bowler eyes in hot, top rays effervescent through spongy forest gloom, the wet of the happy unreconciled with the dry outside.
The embankment lies as heavy edges on our lives. The shadows of the rock, piled drifts huge monotony's ledge, accumulations by the side of the tree wear thin visages; the breath of summer eclipsed....
When the shadows are hungry animals on walls and theatre goers are parliamentarians engaged in a repast or feast of words. the lone house stands as a stone shard or sliver...
All the candles are passing out, one by one. They have evaporated their brightness, overpowered limpid cracks in their own flames, seized the outpouring air with hesitant breath to brave...