ἀρετή
By john_silver
- 504 reads
II
In this valley that knows nothing but sorrow and hail I marched battered, hands over skull to salvage my brain. They said take that bridge to the...
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- 186 reads
III
Even in darkness you see clearly the hands behind your hands weaving a winceyette robe you can't bear to wear. Or look at, for looking and doing are...
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- 184 reads
IV
What paradox describes your voice that though never sentenced dead was buried in my garden, black damp earth ever untended. How is this your voice,...
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- 201 reads
V
There is none of you on the beach only pebbles shells fragments each day the sea will rearrange their pattern. This city is the same. Homes tenements...
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- 196 reads
VI
My love poems are paper boats of agony that voyage to a woman and back ferrying clotted chronicles of failure. I'm not here for chronicles but to...
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- 222 reads
VII
Hold my hand the way you would a broken wing in its lines is a blueprint for writing and flying. I was volitant, I was free, so why these shackles...
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- 207 reads
VIII
The artist's wrist does not shake or perhaps it shakes only on canvases past painting where the eye grows dim. I am no artist my wrists shake like a...
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- 210 reads
IX
Stone and cathedral it is raining on your thin bridge clouds a procession the sky a great funeral of light. Midbridge my hands open I drop into the...
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- 180 reads
X
Everything that falls falls in patterns amenable to an equal geometry of whose functions I know everything, or perhaps nothing. The object of descent...
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- 236 reads
XI
In my backyard the noble form of a deer kneeling spent twenty years dying from the arrow in its liver. In my room an owl perched impassive he is...
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- 180 reads
XII
Not this city but the language encrypted within my body must be the silent exegete of my glory and ruin. The timocracy of monuments does not guide me...
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- 163 reads
XIII
My heart is an hourglass and the sand it contains was sifted from an ancient desert where everything was true. City as desert: extreme moral...
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- 158 reads
XIV
I used to be fond of airports but not anymore. Brands stickers duty-free offers you never truly fly away. Have I become unirradiated of the love of...
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- 164 reads
XV
City as ocean: streets that overlap like waves, unsunk Atlantis, cultures calcified into coral reef. I have left that behind. And I walked probing...
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- 164 reads
XVI
Thrills are greater in expectation than revelation, this is true for everything in the world's compendium and even for gods. Yet gods are no less...
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- 232 reads
XVII
I have seen God, she passed and rested her eye on my heart and I don't know what she thought. Nor did she speak. Confronting that pregnant silence I...
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- 309 reads
XVIII
I came such a long way past the city gates over the insomniac's bridge rested in the port of fireflies. I journeyed sunstruck hallucinating trailing...
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- 248 reads
XX
My darling, my voice, I would sit here with you until my body exhausts its reserves of sense and numbness. But I already know you will leave or I...
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- 212 reads