Monday, January 14, 2019

and then again

I’m never here, just smoke
and blood and bones,
coasting along on
context clues and
the myth of free will.
Late night occlusions,
bookmark letters,
the folded through
sparks gone cold.
The night is always
this way and tomorrow’s
in on the joke.

Wan light and brittle screens,
these sign from distant shore,
symbols set in symbols,
moon and finger plucked
among the multitudes,
a number to pick
a magic hat—
the rabbit only shows up
because it was never there.
So I walk circles
on the earth
skipping every lesson.

at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

simmer

The hours drag and drawl, the vision blurs and fades. The world is more at once, this flight of wing and flower, this litany of sudden silk ...

  • elegy
    The season settles again on the unseasonable, my bones ring with the resonant chill, something’s always missing after a death. The hard shif...
  • 9 mile cigarette
    There’s not much to do once the sinking sets in, once you feel the collapse throughout the collateral, the drag of the earth’s core gripping...
  • snips, snails
    The words circle, the words spin, the words become and begin. There’s really no excuse. Just padding out the package, just filling out the f...