Author: Christopher James

  • Indiscretion

    I. The sun still counts minutes With shadows grazing the bridge of your nose Your irises rest in the shade of two o’clock A lone bird demands attention at the tip of a solar flare. Ringlets tousle in a head pivot Suddenly it is six The white ring on your itching wrist darkens There is […]

  • To Live Dead and Die in a Small Town

    Small towns were a vicious a trap tooled in the basement swat shops of circumstance. It was a town so small…a prison of narrow streets and boarded up windows. There were no video cameras turning in the darkness, but empty space has eyes and wind has ears. No one really needs the newspapers. Everyone knows […]

  • The Morning the Mechanism Broke

    The morning radio waves are gray graves swallowing my heart in static and Kurt Cobain feedback. The sun melts awake after a night of pouting moon and swooning lovers put to bed by the insistence of savored stars glowing tremble-ish. The water pipes roar themselves soar when the shower wakes me with water warm morning […]

  • Black Skies Over Dumas

    My mama wouldn’t touch me. I looked like my daddy, and my daddy was dead. My stepfather wouldn’t hear me. He was jealous of my daddy. My mama still loved my daddy, I looked like my daddy And my daddy was dead. I was born into this world as a baby, and was transformed into […]