025

with soft golden fur
and rough black spots

she carries her vanity
like a knife

behind a long green glass

023

022

inside a train station
a technician steps between two ticket gates
in a row of twelve

he wears a pale turquoise jacket
and a grape arm band
giving him some kind of authority

he places his black plastic tool box on the ground
and opens the lid which displays a hand-painted stop sign
so that people avoid his temporary workstation

he takes a key from his orange jelly chain
hanging from a belt loop
sticks it into the side of the machine
and turns the lock

he opens the brushed aluminum case
to reveal a skeleton of moving parts
hundreds of them
all silver and layered
shallow in depth

so much complexity
just to shoot through train stubs
and open a gate

with a carefully trained eye
he reads the machine
like a user’s manual
noticing each piece for its purpose
with no gap between symbol and referent

leaning over at 90 degrees
he inspects every minute detail
for the slightest imbalance

he loosens and tightens every screw

rotates a dial

tests the belts

replaces a part

and adds a little oil
where needed

he conducts this operation
to a crowd of unsuspecting travelers
entering and exiting
rushing past him
an invisible man
tending to a fragment
of our everyday existence
we so easily take for granted

finally he takes a can of air
with a long thin red nozzle
and sprays each crevice between gears
removing every last dust particle

afterward he puts all his tools
back into his tool box
and slides it over
to the next machine on the line

021

its hard to breathe
when the windows are shut

and there are too many people on the train
standing huddled together
smashed up on the doors
pressed into each others bodies
stabbed by elbows and bags

one man is lucky enough to have a seat
sandwiched between two strangers

he wears a dark suit
and bloodshot eyes
he chews gum
under a white surgical mask
as a line of passengers stand in front of him
swaying gently back and forth like ghosts
not making any noise
except for the hand straps creaking on the metal bar

he takes out his phone
to make a calculation
12 x 288,000 = 3,456,000
he lets out a sigh
and puts it away

his high blood pressure
radiates through every movement

he continues to chew his gum
clenching his two floors of teeth
turning his face pink
veins popping out at his temples

he taps his shoes
in broken staccato

he bobs his knees
up and down

he folds and unfolds his arms
his comfort unrelenting

he rolls his skull on his neck
until
cracking it
like concrete

something ain’t right
someone should ask him if he’s okay

he starts rubbing one of his fingers
on his left hand
agitating a repetitive stress disorder
up and down
squeezing the joints
putting pressure on the bone
painting the skin more and more red
a prayer to soothe his ill feelings

down the line
the train reaches his destination
and stops on the platform
the doors slam open
a song plays
he gets up
and bullies his way through the crowd
before the doors close on him

020

she
stares
into
a
collage
she
made
herself

on
the
cover
of
her
diary

the faces
of
pop
idols

pink
and
white
roses

glitter
and
stars

she
brings
it
up to
her
lips
and
closes
her
eyes

taking
the
train
on
the
way
to
somewhere

019

looking up
from a book
a tiny bug
crawls over the city
speeding past

beneath her

power lines
rise and fall
like ocean waves

sunlight
shimmers
on the outlines
of buildings

concrete walls
bleed into
brick facades

chain links
and tree leaves
disguise the landscape behind

where

apartment blocks
and painted pylons
float in a confetti
of houses
as far as
the horizon

like ships
at sea

all this
she sees
beneath her

but as soon as
i look away

she disappears
into the carriage
of the train

and all that is left
is her view
which falls
like a see through cloth
over my mind

018

on a low pillar
of white concrete
she walks
in constricted circles
with her arm
around a light
which reaches
for the sky
and spreads
its metal wings

017

016

thousands of footsteps
are heard clapping
on the ground
just outside the station

a student
stands before
a map
on a signboard
unsure of where to go
in his hands
he holds another map
printed on a piece of paper
carefully investigating
matching up
the points in space
looking up
at the signboard
and down
at the piece of paper
back and forth
over and over
hoping to find
a lead

015

014

A young thin
boy with glasses
and a sports cut
stands on a
restless train
holding onto
the ring straps
with both hands
wearing a white
polo shirt
tucked into navy pants
and carries his navy bag
round his neck
while listening to
some music
on headphones
while he taps his
untied
unstrapped and
scuffed
white high tops

013

a traffic officer
conducts the morning
flood of traffic

dressed in powder blue
and navy
a yellow rope
hangs from his right shoulder
his shirt and tie
are tucked into his trousers
his shiny black loafers
reflect cars and buildings

he wears white gloves
and carries an orange baton

he moves not
to the sound of engines
or violins
but to to the movement
of vehicles

he spots an oncoming bus
he makes eye contact
with the driver
the driver nods
he raises his baton to the sky
and waves it in small circles
he extends his other arm straight out
like a construction crane
and with white fingertips
he calls his partner forth
it passes slowly
into his arms
and out
into the rotary
leaving him behind
he then bows
and turns on his heel
to another

a taxi
a car
a motorbike
he treats them all the same
with the same extended arms
with the same white gloves
and orange baton

one by one
they enter and exit his life
while he slips through
the cracks of banality
into the magnificence behind

012

you step onto stairs of silver teeth
outlined in yellow
spit out by the floor

they carry you like hands
up a mountain
bound by stainless steel walls
motionless
polished
reflecting shadowy figures

you hold onto
a blue plastic railing
which forms a continuous loop
around the outer edge of the walls
like a rubber band
moving in sync with the stairs
together they are infinity

near the peak
the stairs
become flat
and are eaten
by the floor

you step off at the summit
and look for the nearest exit

011

A woman crosses a bridge in a storm.
Her clothes are painted on by the rain.
Her head is hidden under a black umbrella
leaving her blind.
Strong gusts punch the nylon fabric
between its wire frame;
giving it a pulse,
threatening to turn it inside out.
She doesn't take any shit
from the wind or the rain.
She just slowly continues on
to the other side.

010

It is hot and humid. Small buildings bookend a narrow street. Many shops are open for business. Many people are walking to and from the station. A shiny black car makes its way down the street, careful not to hit anyone. It carries with it the sun's rays and reflects them off the windshield. For only the slightest moment, a bright flash of light is projected onto a woman in passing. Her body is rendered shadow under a translucent dress. The moment soon disappears. Every strand separates from its entanglement. The powerful light fades. The shadow becomes body. The woman walks closer to her destination. The car moves ahead. The driver puts on his signal to exit the frame.

009

The horizon flashes in multiple hues of violets, indigos, and whites. Shadows move across neighboring buildings. The rain connects heaven to earth in continuous lines. Lightning tears apart the sky like paper. Thunder cries heavy on the clouds. Hammering the atmosphere with a wreckoning noise. Shaking the very foundations. Echoing upon the windows. Commanding everyone's attention like a five star general.

008

Against a backdrop of bud like green mountains a young boy stands in a cool river on moss covered rocks. His reflection is seen upside down superimposed over the rippling water heading down stream. He smiles in the moment. The past and future are without a thought.

007

Three safety orange backhoe excavators with long hinged arms and buckets remain motionless on a landscape of chalky white rubble and re-bar sticking out like grasses. They are surrounded by four semi-demolished discolored gray walls with empty window frames punched out uniformly.

006

On the platform, at a kiosk, a brief electronic sound goes off as a young man slides open the window of a refrigerator to grab a cold plastic bottle of green tea. The sound goes off to alarm the clerk that someone has slid open the door on the side of the kiosk which is invisible to the clerk.

005

It is the morning rush. The train is crowded with passengers standing shoulder to shoulder. There is little room to move about. A rugby player in a finely pressed gray suit sings with the sound off. He is rehearsing for what looks to be a chorus recital. his accompanying music is audible only to himself through white earphones. He carefully accentuates each word taking great pains to perfect the movement of his tongue, lips, and jaw. He stands up straight and firm on the floor of the rocking train with shoulders pinned back, feet spread apart, and breathes correctly from his lower abdomen. Beads of sweat trickle down from his sports cut to his freshly shaven face. His confidence is paramount. He is a testament to perfection. To doubt him would be a mistake. However, the other passengers pay no attention other than a brief glance. They have all created their own private space on this public packed train by way of books, cellphones, folded newspapers, headphones, and game machines. The rugby player in a finely pressed gray suit singing with the sound off might appear to be an anomaly, but really he is all the same as everyone else in his self made room of see through walls.