Blood and Milk – A Cento

her kiss was like an adder’s fang all naked in the moon. beak into it. it would hover there, ghostly still, the blood and the milk hidden their release wetting ours – then, as if breathing, the sea swelled beneath us. if you must know anything it truly must take nothing but grief to turn…

Second Stage – A Hybrid Cento

we watch and we are always here – fog everywhere. fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. darkness gathers all around. As the streetlights by the river…

Filthy God – A Hybrid Cento

she didn’t have time to suffer, or even to grieve, each time he’d thrust his organ deeply into her, her face had distorted. each time he did so, the squeals turned to something like sobs. the small hole in the pink that peeked out between the lips of her vagina would remain open at those…

Flesh and Desire – A Cento

dear doll made soft fleshy marionette in the window, dancing don’t display what people desire recognize beauty and ugliness is born let thy actions then be pure, free from the bonds of desire. – thy birth was after the birth of the sun: the birth of the sun was before thine. my darling, my darkening…