Constanzo Allione – fried shoes, cooked diamonds

17 , 17 syllable American Sentences

Following a dVerse incentive i try the American Sentence a flourish of lines at 4am this morning hope they go down ok

1: his nose punched flat lips split pouted looking for a fight every night

2: a can of schlitz sunset and low slung impala remedy for loss

3: obstinate kisses infect toothache jaw ache headache neurology needed

4: motel marinade coated and baked off counted dollars and returned to the street

5: diamond finger tug gold band reminder these kisses where illicit

6: sat hunched on the toilet hand working the memory that he had betrayed

7: winters pale counterpane gave no shelter for the rabbit from predatory air

8: reasons could be found on the diminishing length of yesterdays words

9: dial the number wait for tone he would not answer he is long gone

10: jazz piano raw as her voice began to crack it was no longer 1954

11: seek the stars and they will not shine anticipating the moment to surprise

12: guitar strings strangle all chances of finding reconciliation

13: two finger pressure shudder she releases a sigh he was erased

14: bellboy at end of marble hall hear titans whisper demise of poor

15: grandpa’s hand once so steady gone leaves remember tobacco smell

16: over ocean swathe she watches vessel under pirates color sail

17 : amity beach july bathers swim children play mayor falters shark prowls

sedoka #1

desire crawls past

as seasons speak in tongues gone

the infinite becomes ghost,

seasons spit lingers

poor heart withers for kisses

this season brings back the lost

Our Days To Live

the heat was a jacket

to be worn on it’s own

heavy and coarse,

beading forehead 

moistening arm,

stepping from porch

onto ground crenulated

by dryness,

haze lifting off blacktop

cars silhouette shimmer,

already a dry clamor

at the throat that was not


another car appeared

a blue sedan tinted windows

Buick or some make,

kerbside waiting

pulled alongside,

“you getting in son”

at the controls was dad,

sixteen years had passed

since the thing we don’t

like to remember occured,

now as we did sometimes

drive out four miles,

river curved tight towards

the bridge,

rod and line cast,

under tree placed shade

and beer cold in the


we lingered in this

quiet place.

California Beaches

sand stuck to her

like pepper on a steak,

i could almost feel textured

braille of messages

upon her skin,

beneath those

pieces of cloth

anatomy to be discovered,

i ache , i pain

she carries on by,

and i take up my pad

and write