Posts Tagged ‘prose’
Chilling
.
but you had beef jerky in your pocket
and I didn’t know that
six strange ways we wasted one chance
late that night
in the forested swamp
it wasn’t even cold
nothing like the bitter biting icy burn
we faced up north every January
where ice fractures when it freezes too hard
it was damp
creating a different chill
one that pulls out warmth
more than it pushes in cold
and ideas start to vanish
common sense vaporizes
as it certainly did
late that night
or we would have probably lived
to tell about it
and why this had anything to do
with the cupola on the roof of that barn
.
.
.
Kissed
.
if you were here
for the turn of the year
I’d have likely kissed you
kissed your soul
which I can do anyway
outside of time and space
between the essences
of solid dynamics
and ethereal planes
we intermingle
energy vibrations
frequency modulations
fantastic presentations
of lyrical singing
musical winging
brilliant beginnings
lighting like fireworks
crossing the sky
floating past planets
inside our brains
lasting forever
bonding like atoms
in complementary structures
so vast
probabilities collide
starting over again
a brand new calendar
with the very same days
another year older
and a kiss
blown on a wave
.
.
Starting
.
open the door
step out into the predawn light
into the cold
into the calm, crisp, morning air
trod the well-worn path
upon the carpet of fallen leaves
trailing behind the dog
as she strains against the leash
in a frantic to-and-fro weave
tracking an invisible path
left by some nighttime prowler
passing beneath a large oak tree
that comes to life
at the start of a breeze
rustling the scattering of leaves
brown wrinkles of their former selves
that still hang in the branches
and will for the rest of the winter
suddenly begin to notice
the day is well under way
.
.
Wandering Nonsensically
In that moment, when the time had finally run out, it occurred to me that I hadn’t actually prepared for the end. The end of the dream. The end of the song. The end of ideas that made any sense. The end of innocence.
One second later, everything else in the universe continued on as if nothing would ever end. Things just continue changing as much as they always have. Memories, merely snapshots holding certain aspects in suspended animation.
Inspiration absent motivation. Ideology of avoidance intent on grasping nondescript constructs. Vested interests in vast expanses of physical voids in intellectual realities.
Fruition that cannot be reached.
So, we drive on, in the offhand chance we might eventually reach an end, rarely recognizing how often we probably already have.
.
.
