Ink Node: Dora Malech

Lying Down With Dogs

2010-09-06T10:58:14-07:00

Fetch this phenomenominal conjesture. This time I mean it. A wag of the wand and the restive history sits like a sure thing. Suppositious (delicious) hypotheosis. Like lips could love a rubber teat. Miss stay, miss beg. Mistake the clock’s tick-tock for some synecdochetic-tocking heart. No such...

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Relatively Long Arms

2010-01-31T12:52:20-08:00

For his sake I steered clear of flicker,
singed the noodles, sang for supper—
sundown at last on the bad-news New Year—
hung left, left and cut to quicker,
steered clear of neon but stoked the fire
with a store-bought log. Flame took the ticket,
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With a Scattered Chance of Forecast

2009-08-21T09:45:33-07:00

Unstrung, the fence posts list which way
and every like a drunken firing squad.
I'd like to say they'll never hit us, but.
Or see our swaying as an isolated breeze
and not what's coming. This week's gods
are bored even by blood and not...

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Copy That

2009-07-02T13:17:58-07:00

Please refrain touch to our foregones.
They’s brains’ ballast one conditions.

Pre-dark days of harsh geometry
we could call all those shapes diamonds.

Wheeled in what a whiny gurney.
Spun us some such glib and slippery.

Look her...

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