Welcome to Phoenix’s world-changing Salon

so, I refuse to tick your box even though I might tickle your fancy. It’s enough. You roughly hand me my coat As you fail to handle my desires. If only it was as easy as that, Simple as I’d ease my fin­gers Into you — I’m sure you’d arch back Des­pite your arched…

She’s suf­foc­at­ing in the midst of red blown glass each breath shat­ters silence crazed chaotic edges her bal­ance is del­ic­ate, slid­ing insane she slips into mad­ness and eleg­ant pain You fail to fathom her pur­poses absurd out­bursts and ali­en­a­tion your inflec­tions arc in…

for jason when I touched your skin you trembled — no other fin­ger­tips had fluttered there before you caught your breath tried to still your ragged shak­ing I stroked your arm and kissed your eyes shut

the notes tumble from the gongs swirl­ing around my head, set­tling on thoughts like stray feath­ers moment­ar­ily until, breeze-like, a cymbal tickles a higher pitch and brushes it onward. Down­ward, inward. How can music live with The decisions of its people? The agony of…

It was not I nor would I have it be Who kissed those lips then had them rent from me Tis not my eyes nor hand nor breath you feel It is not I who steals you from your sleep. In darkest night I whispered solemn truth Alas I spoke too soon or late or both They called…

‘an I returned, as few fore­told — after all, he was the once and future while I was merely a hand­maiden and much maligned at that — I went straight to our beloved spot, At Cad­bury, our Cam­elot, expect­ing A roof at least, per­haps my garden, O’er­grown but at least…

We stripped of majesty Play loud with plastic money Lumin­es­cent in its shock. We stripped of honour Crawl over bal­us­trades, Weep over trav­esties, Place wreaths for rock stars, Walk over bones and Graf­fiti grave­stones, All the while know­ing That any semb­lance of…

This parody of sub­stance this hip­line pain, inex­act untouch­able, immeas­ur­able strips me down, stippled eleg­ance of tracery blade pared from bone and tingling

My body swells to fill its plump­ness liquids move pon­der­ously in a gut perched on pained hips and aching legs. I am ratch­etty breaths drawn and bones cracked, sinews tightened, stretched I aware shim­mery fever-blown, fly-blown, air-borne, eye-con­scious only in…

The scream­ing shout­ing mad­ness Quivers on the tip of my tongue, Trembles in my lip, yowls in the Edges of my clench­ing. I want to Unleash hur­ricane fury, crash down A hand slap­ping a fly into obli­vion, An ava­lanche crush­ing beyond Recog­ni­tion a land­scape untouched. I…

I lose phrases every day I mis­place them and frantic­ally Search the house, pock­ets, draw­ers. Some­times I find them, but less often. It’s what I always thought If I don’t write, I won’t remem­ber. It all fades. I try not to go gently, Owen’s moans in my ear, whispering…

I remem­ber dis­tinctly how it felt to stretch up into the cab so high above the ground little feet on the footrest hand on the jamb clam­ber onto the seat and the smell of coffee hes­sian in the back of the van, beans rolling fit for a king.

hi my name is marc rose i’m around 6 foot give or take an inch i have long auburn hair and a goatee well my hair’s not as long as i’d like and it’s a bit too wavy but it’s shoulder length i’m about 7 inches, cut my name is marc my nick on-line is gabe – gab­riel – i…

I read the texts of tech­nos­cience and I think again of you. Am I bound to you for life, the invis­ible dance of we pair, destined to intric­ate avoidances?

I am too often on the edge of myself. I am mapped through my vary­ing eth­no­graph­ies And find myself anchor­less in the eddies Of integ­rity; it is an inform­a­tion age. My head buzzes with the fear of ignor­ance And I have already begun the long pro­cess Of for­get­ting what I…

from a Ses­tina attempt writ­ten 1996? this body with its blood pound­ing and nerves elec­tric jud­ders with raw life and shivers at your touch i am a shell you hold to your ear, and in its empty hollow hear the sounds of the sea. I’m not really here, though there’s room…