The doomsday clock is set 29 seconds to midnight,wax-dipped lips quivered for a fading kissmasked hearts buried in layers,deep and thickin muck and in grief. Out of toner,Out of ink,smiles no longer print lemon-yellow days. Soulless words ringing hollow tones,emanating out of dry throats,bouncing off flimsy convictions,thirsting for meaning. We surf a sea of faces,riddled with galaxy of…

Thinking About Our Former Neighbor, Visual Artist, and Friend, Malcolm Alexander — Image by kenne conversations lost conversationsfrom the pastlostin the imagesof memoriesamassedonly to returnon the backsof deathresurrectedby poetsserving onlyto introduceimagesof what waslike waterreturningfrom a fountain’sreservoironlyto be rebornagainand againand again — kenne  

Pondering the Duende — Image by kenne I write not because of an ability, but because of an inspiration, a magic, a fire inside that garners an alliance with my demons and angels. “Thus duende is a power and not a behavior, it is a struggle and not a concept. I have heard an old master guitarist say: ‘Duende is not in the throat; duende surges up from the soles of the feet.’ Which means it is not…