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Literature Text
Quiet fortress burns.
A sad, perfumed angel eats.
Empty eye opens.
A sad, perfumed angel eats.
Empty eye opens.
Literature
The Fuguist
Jonah hated Mars. He hated everything about it. Every minute he spent there he was plagued by a vague feeling of unrest: Mars was not quite foreign, not quite familiar, an endless mirage or coma dream. Maybe he was dead, and maybe this was purgatory. Sometimes he considered praying at night, asking for forgiveness, just in case, for whatever sin might have banished him there, but then he looked out over the barren, forsaken wasteland and thought his time was much better spent sleeping, or walking.
But he hated how soft the ground was, how little clouds of dust exploded under his soles with every step, and how he could turn around and see his
Literature
This Organized Life
We are having dinner at a place I can’t afford. Carl has gotten into middle age at some point, complete with good posture and brown loafers. Hoping he plans to pay but erring on the side of caution, I order soup.
It is not awkward. We speak easily as ever, despite the pricey menu, Carl’s shoes, and the last time he and I stood yelling in a room together, each so loud the words became one great indistinguishable noise.
“I’m so glad we ran into each other,” he says. The waiter pours more wine. I begin to assume he is going to pay; that is what a man his age does when he brings a woman to a restaurant like this. You al
Literature
Eclipse
moon guides me
on its voyage,
night wind
goes deep,
insinuating bones
fingers as white,
tonguing
the marrow of me-
I can't shiver the
chill from my soul
as intense as
everything I feel
while there's life,
who could
sustain it
a sadness
adrift,
where it takes me
I don't know,
I don't wonder
too numb
to feel the course
moon steers-
eyes soft focus,
total eclipse
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I wrote this on the side of a light outside my flat. During the day it's almost invisible, like a secret, but at night it lights up for everyone to see.
Poetry vandalism is fun! Try it yourselves, and post me links to what you've done.
Poetry vandalism is fun! Try it yourselves, and post me links to what you've done.
Comments10
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I do stuff like this all the time now.
Its so...empowering, to know you'll make someone smile, and in the smallest, most harmless, and anonymous way. 
Its so...empowering, to know you'll make someone smile, and in the smallest, most harmless, and anonymous way.