Posts
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Inventory
After reading "Altars" by Austin Rodenbiker
This poem is sad
and lonesome,
sad and lonesome.
Barely more than
a list, an inventory
of objects placed
upon altars. -
The Labyrinth of Useless Stories
The Labyrinth is now all I am; my entire being exists within these twisted marble walls. Sometimes I wonder if I am not more than another turn in the unending pathways of this place. -
How Rocks Live
These last five years
passed by quickly.
I wonder if I observe
time like the rocks do ––
everything can happen
in no time at all and yet
I remain unmoved;
I stay in the same position. -
Silent evolution
I
The more words I have,
the less there is to say.
II
Thinking has become an act of
meditation in which I run my
fingers through my hair,
III
ruining the curls and forcing -
January's ice
The eave outside my window is
crowded with bunches of
sharp, clear icicles. I like to
Think of them as well meaning, as
guarding me from danger. I am not
sure what kind of menace
Loves
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heartbeat
The clock is broken, it stopped ticking ten years ago, stopped counting how much time had passed. It is an old grandfather clock, wood of oak, and sculpted to perfection.
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Divine Night
“I could sleep ‘til eleven tomorrow,” I said, throwing myself across her bed, sprawling on her star-patterned comforter. Mary took a seat at her vanity, and I could see her eyes roll on her blue-painted face.
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Lover (Ocean)
Ocean waves are music to my ears
Calming my raging thoughts about you,
Eleven O'clock, the time you proposed
Air was cool beneath the moon -
Willow Tree (Rain)
Running underneath the willow tree,
As my father hung the swing.
In the rain, I stand watching the same tree
Now, as I cry, reading his name on the stone below. -
Blind
I awake on the floor in the dark. All around me is emptiness, inexplicable emptiness. The thick blackness pushes against my eyeballs, digging its thumbs into my skull. Disoriented, I scrabble against the floor, a thin and matted carpet.
