Our words reverberate,But I can’t remember what was said.Four years passed us by –Now as I walk past the same buildings,See the spots where we lingered,The trees are growing older, but the food trucks are the same. I hear a faint whisper,Like music in my ears.When we talked of nothing,It still meant something –Something that […]
The familiar voice that bids mego to an unknown mountainpierces my heart but stays the knifein a trembling hand.The deed’s undone,yet the unspeakable lingers —Excerpt of Estrangement, James L. Crenshaw And from on high, I feel it.A pitch that rends my eardrumsChafes me raw, until the silence renders me whole again,No longer overflowing, as I
Homeward bound (a Glosa) Read More »
solitude among giantshow it feelsto know that i inhale their exhalationsand that they do the samethat as we both respiratewe are conspiringconnecting anthropic and organic crest it’s a strange homea mystical divideroots to canopyseparating landscapes ofurban and ruralthe planes of my mindfinally at rest every moment under trees,every breath,preciousalthough infinitesimal.smaller still to these creaturesrooted to
The lives of 83 Robinson St.
Milk comes when the bell rings Read More »
Want,desire,yearning,pining, craving,weight… waiting.The sickness,aching,longing.Whatever the word may be to describe the hot burning sensation that pools in your gut and spreads through your body like wildfire.Each torch you dropped did not snuff out, the amber still burns blue. You stuff and stuff and stuff to no surprise, you remain unsatisfied.The definition of insanity is“doing the
Approaching the situation with misinformed caution Read More »
When melancholy strikes,and my laundry piles up,a 13-year-old bloodhoundthe size of two American footballsmaterialises between the layers of rough jeans, synthetic wools,and a couple freshly washed pairs of thongs. Here he slobbers.Profusely.Heaving in heavy distress,as if to bring to my attention the gravest offence of my existence –that he has NEVER, not ONCE,been taken on
The Bach-bowel movement: no. 2 in A minor Read More »
I read a quote once,“It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.”Why must I –with the strength of my solitude, bear it.Why must Iadorn the strife and wear it,like the other would wear jewellery,gilded in gold and unburdened by guilt.So my question to
There is a power in watching, noticing, and remembering.On the subway, I sit, I see a womanwearing the exact same shoes as me.I hold our connection withrecognition of this intimacy,one that only I can see.She got off the train,but I see her still.I’m not certain when I’ll stop seeing her;I don’t think it’s necessary. I
I see, therefore I know Read More »
The fire sees everything as it feeds. Gold filigree peels away under the heat. Skeletal wooden beams come crashing in succession.The oil paintings hanging on the walls drip down, colours and faces crawling from the canvas onto the ground. Red and black and flesh warp into one as hungry brushstrokes flee their gilded frames.Mary on
