I bit into an anchovy. Brine dissolved across my tongue. Salt and sea marrying into the myriad effervescence of it all. The wine settling deep within my belly, then rising, awakening the uninhibited within. I raised my head back and sucked at the sharp edged mother of pearl
Wild Lines and Poetic Travels: A Keijiro Suga Reader Edited by Doug Slaymaker This volume of essays and translations analyzes the prodigious and wide… Book Announcement: Wild Lines and Poetic Travels: A Keijro Suga Reader
Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark
“Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia.
Back street Europe.
Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town.
We’ll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium.
For it is Spring and the blossoms have begun to sing.
A nod to blanco nerium”
A poem to the City of Oranges. An Open Love Letter to the City of Valencia, Spain.
Will you embark upon our honeyed rendezvous?
Will you drink this strange brew?
Inhale the perfumery of day glow grain?
Heed the invitation East?
Happy Autumn. Happy Fall. Happy Hop-tu-Naa! Happy Harvest. Happy Samhain. There is something stirring in the airs of Autumn. Gets me every year. To celebrate the skies of an ever shifting twilight, when the spirits soar through the liminal film between this world and that of the beyond. When the night parade of daemons and tricksters travel and trove.