Poetry

Oh my love, there is ruin That I have dipped my toes in  A polluted connection An exploitative relation No matter how much I do I can never untouch you  Pure water mixes with oil Estranged from truth, taught to revel in constant toil Product foundational over quality To be loved is to be a […]

Waterboard at seven, Legacy parkade at eleven; she reclined in her seat, black plastic smoked to crystal, and with hand like pale candelabra reached for my arm under the gridded flicker.        ‘You haven’t talked to me all day.’        ‘I’ll be leaving to-morrow.        ‘Perhaps I could——’   

The skyline is sharp and jagged  So when smog slaps it,  Rain bleeds, thick and oily and hesitant when  Every clock broke last week in Lundentūn;  This went unnoticed by all  except the fellow too bored to kill himself.  Omnispasmodic forgot where he was going – (Where was he going?) The destination is of little

Motivations can be understood as they manifest in the reactions to each moment, everyone is coming together in the Now—this cannot be transcended as it is the truth of the condition, of the condition’s form (1). If you are unreactive to the Now you can look at it better while it’s happening (2). From chaos

Oh great love, \\

you, great mold that grows in my lungs, \\

sporing and sparring for sparse air. \\

Everything we are we inhale.