Sea/Sky (4.26.2020)When lying in crib of grassClouds traveling orbital routes aboveThose wisps swirl, round and downThough so unhurried, no sound is heard. Winds churn to fizzy foamThose vapid ivory beings Dissolving from cobalt sky Hoisting their sails in sea’s silent gale. There in ambrosial seaIts sky shimmering as sapphireSalt permeates its membersFloating beneath all sky’s downward fall. … Continue reading Sea/Sky (A Poem)
Death/Dust (4.10.2020)Waking early in morrow, flattened ‘neath sordid sheetsEyes crusted and heavy, waking under their irisesMisting down, I glimpsed a foggy brightSeeing it eclipse, blind after blindShuttering rays, fastening washboard of lightA dooming haze—covering this sight. Its warmth yoked of day anewAs heavy skin weighed this aged figureAnd hoarse voice ‘eeked its chordsNor did moist… Continue reading Death/Dust (A Poem)
Snow/Grove (3.21.20)In late winter, when Hope thawsAnd cumbersome Ice grows weary,Impeded by glass—surrounded by wood,Longing to leave sight so dreary. Knowing no degree nor warmth, I glimpsed, robbing its strange vision Whether snow or sleet, I queried Unsure, hanging its indecision. Hoping it not Winter’s final complaint, I grasped its faint forms.Capturing those bantam saints,Knowing… Continue reading Snow/Grove (A Poem)
Life/Leaves [3.13.2020] What tis’ the sound, a soft crackle behind.I shudder and twist, to see its working mind.A sound soft and sharp, must be of some form—A Being lurking, with ill intent inside.Quizzing my sight, rolling my eyes,Hunting for its home.Its source—alive! I must be forthright!As my eyes began to comb. Panning, perusing, obsessing, at… Continue reading Life/Leaves (A Poem)
*Written on February 24th, 2020. The Change of Nothing (A Short Story) He sat amidst a swirl of voices. The voices were muddled and punctually interrupted by the sound of an espresso machine—“crrrshee!”—before returning the their homeostatic melody. He’d been there for some time, books splaying in different directions, carving a semi-circle round him. One… Continue reading The Change of Nothing (A Short Story)
5:42 A.M. – July 2nd, 1999 Moses Rochester wakes up with sleep crusted cross his eyes. It takes three tries for him to heave himself out of bed, releasing an audible “oomph!”. Once vertical, he lays his hands clumsily on his knees, resembling some antique ape. Sighing, he stares at the chipped paint on his… Continue reading The Goldfinch (A Short Story)
*This poem was inspired by a poem of Percy Shelley’s in a letter to Maria Gisborne concerning the Engish Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
*Written November 22nd, 2019. I haven’t done much writing recently, at least not for enjoyment or improvement purposes. I’ve noticed that my personal reading, writing, and thinking rekindle my passion for study, and most importantly, for living. They enliven me, bring hope, and sometimes, a touch of joy. Like the cool drops of water gliding… Continue reading These Waxy Leaves (Again) [Poem & Reflection]
*Written on March 18th, 2019. A Preface Just a few days ago, I experienced it. It occurred when I was sitting in a coffee shop, in a moment of switching from task to task, from thought to thought. When suddenly, a feeling washed over me. It was embodied as a weightless breeze, cool and calming.… Continue reading The Singularity: An Exercise in Phenomenology
*Written on February 6th, 2019. I wrote this poem in one sitting, as I do most of my poems. For some reason, I have an aversion to editing poems after the first draft. This isn’t an excuse for bad poetry; it’s just me protecting my Romantic tendencies I guess. I’ve discovered that poetry allows my… Continue reading Spring Air
*This was written on December, 2nd 2018. Having recently read James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (which I would highly recommend), I decided to capture the effect it had on me in an extemporaneous poem. Joyce’s language in the work is rich and piercing. It would be difficult for one not to… Continue reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
*This was written on May, 20th 2018. I stumble through the dark hallwayminding the slight ache in my headto find the coffee unmade. What with usual ease is done laboriously. I sit down on the cold couchminding the assortment of misplaced pillows to find my mind clear.What was done laboriously now with easeand clarity.