Uraziel

15. Letters to California #1 Back from a thousand colored pulsars, the oscillating neon of downtown, to return to granule, a baja bacterium in the collective fauna of new world ...

And I shall broadcast, saying nothing, the starry echoes of the wave, a breaking up of foam and of quicksand, a rustling of salt withdrawing, the grey cry of sea-birds ...

13. sung in a whisper during the sermon and between deep breaths ( who were we to make golden ladders out of words? we weren't messiahs or fathers of messiahs. ...

12. Last Circles of dirt and rainmarks are fluted shingles on quagmire pagodas purple with the sun, the coloration of canvas, like a birthmark resenting its necessity. A white t-shirt ...

In my few weeks time here, getting settled, you strike me as an enigma. But you are slowly becoming my favorite enigma .

I have never had so much enjoyment reading poetry before. I am in love with your stylistic, strong verse. There's something special about your tone and choice of words that ...

Okay sure thing. 11. Progressive Cabaret to Sputnik, we rocket from your drawers. In funk-flavored aphrodisia we plan missions on your thighs, and we're just rock and rolling here on ...

10. Canopy From this height, the fallacy of midnight is sundialed away with binary bonobos.

Uh. Hi. A bit late, but I'm Uraziel. I'm new and I'm doing NaPoWriMo in here this year. I like my poetry and fiction. Hello!

Marked for enriched reading. by the clink of coins born in gutters stamped with need and not at all concerned with the divinity of ants dumb question: did you mean ...

9. built in a day Caliph, corinthian lights stretch on your temple, barring posie-pocked eyelids, pyrotechnic farsights. Dreams of flight and falling, from wax wings and mezzanines to elevatored under

Neruda is one of my favorites.

8. Flaccid Imminent clouds drain to foreground, as we lose the fluid afternoon. Breath and unbuttoned blinds; a sky diluted with the smoke of tertiaries. Sun comes to rest on ...

This is horrible. 7. Flowers & Folios I owe my story to the girl sitting at the mouth of the slide who turned to me and wondered aloud what French ...

~ Help! I'm stuck in a place between a place and a place! A place where everyone has worn out the idea of me, not knowing what to make of ...