Archive for August, 2020

Blankness of a Clock Face

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , , on August 30, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

Your stride faltered in hesitation as
The young man held the door to let you pass
His face eclipsed by yours – a brief reflection
His eyes stalled by yours within the glass

I’d hoped to catch this moment in the mirror
Rising from the lines upon my face
But read the time less from standing figures
Than from the way you spanned the empty space

This morning’s spectre of your fragrant heat
Attendant to your body’s pooling shadow
Trickles through the reef of cotton sheet as
A frigid breeze rattles the open window

I kiss your neck, then disappear from sight
You turn to face the weeping winter light

The Devils – A User’s Guide

Posted in Fiction, Observation, Reading with tags , , , , , on August 26, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

What’s it about?

What amounts to a terrorist cell in mid-nineteenth century Russia and its effect on a small fictional town of Dostoyevsky’s invention.

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Her Invisible Wings

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags on August 9, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle


Within the lock the key creates a flashpoint

And the lambent pressure of her absence

Rolls back in waves from the open door

And mounts walls in cylinders of silence


Where once we sheltered in woven shadows

Drifting down from her invisible wings

And the electricity of orgasm

Glittered random and wild across her skin


I talk to her when I’m in the shower

At least, to the frequencies that linger

And after, standing before the mirror

Watching as my hunkered shadow glowers

Deep beneath the sheen of beaded silver

Draw her ciphered outline with a finger

My Dark Vanessa

Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Reading with tags , , , , on August 7, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle



“I called Lolita a love story and the professor cut me off, saying, ‘Calling this novel a love story indicates an unconscionable misreading on your part.’

She wouldn’t even let me finish what I was trying to say. Ever since then, I haven’t dared bring it up in any of my classes.”


My Dark Vanessa.

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My Dark Vanessa

Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Reading with tags , , , , , , on August 2, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle



Our relationship lasted until after I graduated. She left her husband and I’d left school, and she came over to my apartment one day and we talked about doing it properly. Continue reading

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