Human Patterns

The sound vibrating through the medium of my dust
pulsing, binding to my conscious shell
of a vitality, leaking

I can’t grasp hold of these fleeting notes
I can’t hold them close
to love or hate

They slip through my fingers like silk over rock
too fast to pin down
too fluid, they won’t hesitate

My thoughts skip away over input gone imperfect
my moods, reflected in the silver
lining of the glass of my ego, stranded

And yet I see, so I am blind
to the tidings received

But I wait for the cue
just to feel. . .just to wring
every last squeeze of a gasping pitch

Still, it always passes over me
through me, escaping me
ever, always, always. . .gone

As I watch it flow
in an ever expanding pattern
ever farther, ever out

Past my bleeding shell
into the pool,
into an autonomous species shallow
with shadows sharp to cut

 

First Published by: Poetry Repair
Publication Date – 08/13/17
Issue # – 240 v17.c08
Link to my Poem

 

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Bethink

Eyes gone to the expanse
vaguely focused on the mirror before me
The window aft, reflected in
an external view turned inward to
open traces of the past

Curtains billow
obscuring, then clouding
But for moments, a clarity

The curtain shifts. . . .
Then there, there is a memory

– – A wistful child
bewildered, alone
uncomprehending
no one to succor
no one to hold
 
– – Breeze blowing
leaves softly swaying, whispered
through an orchard full of hope
Lolling in the shaded grass
dreaming a tomorrow
 
– – A smile, a laugh
pure joy unadulterated
freedom
abandon,
Oh, feel the abandon
 
– – A loss, so finite
so vast, eternal
as to make you want to follow
in its wake
 
– – Connections, friends and loves
enter, then leave the vista
always leaving. . . .
always, away and turning
 
The longing to go back
leaving the now, to former reminders
so strong and deep, misplaced
But for one step, desired. . .and taken
. . .as the curtain caresses my back

 

First Published by: Poetry Repair
Publication Date – 08/13/17
Issue # – 240 v17.c08
Link to my Poem

 

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No ticket needed to travel between moments

My hand reached out to
present my ticket to the
conductor standing right
across from me, not four feet
away from my bag.

Yet before our flesh could
press he is across the
horizon, rings of dross
surrounding us both,
the moon hung in stereo
against an unfamiliar
sky. Which galaxy
is this, with black
entireties and alien
consultations? I am lost.

I reach out my hand again
and my body is tossed across
a surface pocked by craters,
those violent contacts
made by mad comets and debris.
Yet it is still not far enough.

How can I reach this
stranger, an unfamiliar
silhouette beckoning?
And should I even try?
Is he the cause of all this,
my mislead through place?

It seems I must attempt
this journey if I am
ever to reach my destination.
Try and hopefully succeed
before I drift off to that
distant red dwarf over
the curve of my sight.

But without gravity
to assist me I may be
visiting other oddities
on my way, an involuntary
tourist unable to ask
for directions from my guide
on this the universal
jaunt through spectacle.

 

First Published by: Aphelion
Publication Date – August 7, 2017
Issue # – 220, Volume 21
Link to my Poem

 

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The very air we breathe, Empowered

The very air about
our lives is made up
of intellectual
tendrils that stimulate
and encourage agility.

Through these vibrant hues
of breathe we exchange
and accept. I inhabit the realm
of the stars, my mind
a mire of chaos, skewed
perceptions, a devotion.
And you, you speak to me with
a touch of trust, given.

Your energy, one of warmth
and determination, allows mine
to be renewed, a balance between
heart and rebirth.  After
which I shall buff your
innocence to perfection.

 

First Published by: Five2One
Publication Date – August 6, 2017
Link to my Poem

 

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Period

 

I found you again,
hiding in amongst all your
periods and. . . .

Letters, tall and oh so proper,
a calm, intimate facade
that abruptly lets loose
like the slice of a knife
to jolt complacency’s drivel.

You were built of grey and white, child.
Soul lacking in your hasty construct,
a withered eye and censor tacking.
But we are not fools,
we know what you are.

Game always senses
the savage in their midst.
The snarling, gouged creature
barely held in check by
periods and. . . .

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

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Following a thought through a wormhole

As I sat writing
letters one morning
a thought took me,
led me away from
my moment.

The farther I got
from that now
the more my anatomy
tried to follow.

I was stretched
between common
and rare, unable
to keep my eyes
on my pen.

Before I knew
of a reason why
not, my senses
split, and I recalled
my purposes,
simultaneous.

As hands took note
my heart took flight,
and the head took
advantage
of any view.

And I saw myself
in 2-D and 6,
one mundane, another
anything but singular,
sitting here
and elsewhere
extraordinarily
still in sync.

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

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Dirt Eating

 

The burden
of prayers and curses
flung at open-wide plains
come home to roost,
lacquered upon layers
they hang on me, bind me,
challenge and morph my
persona until I seethe
in my mortality.

I did not ask
for this role. No,
I never volunteered.
But the blood in my
veins was spun long
ago to accept, every
generation a chosen,
every progeny unfailing.

All that is left
to me is to harbor
every cry uttered
until my frame sifts
to dust, and my animus
returns again, enduring.

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

Posted in Magic, Speculative | Tagged | Leave a comment