Changes

Need; kneaded through kneels...

Want; wanton in wait...

180 degrees is the name of change.

 

I live the pun of life; live,

No reboadcast,

Only deja vu,

Only in what seems to be a dream.

Cursing the opening eye

Peering through a window of "winless" wars.

 

I have won many scars,

Deforming the mental man.

The inner "him".

 

DO you remember walking distances

No shorter than the love we make to acquire asthma?

Do you remember nakedness more open than 180 degrees?

It seems...

I am alone in the scents we discarded to the breeze...

Alone...

In the moan we hung on trees...

Reviews

[Jason Henry]

last stanza is insanity. of course you need a platform to deliver such an ending and the previous stanzas were like a mad architect's dream. that last stanza though... it's not just the rhyme. it's that and the personification and the metaphor and the imagery and the disguise. i had to draw for my inhaler.

[Emily B]

missing you, poet

[Una Xoto]

brilliant.

[V.B.]

The first stanza is an absolutely awesome buildup to that "pun of life" line, and the rest of this is a deliciously philosophical pair of scissors that just cuts through any other thoughts I might have considered entertaining for the next hour.

[Emily B]

I felt like reading your words today. So here I am.

[Emily B]

these are good words to come back to on a day like today . . . going to leave work and go walk up a hill, though, will be a good day for walking up a hill

[Emily B]

it seems to me that sadness like this is hard-won, I'm working toward my own scars, it is a long story

I will still walk the distances, though, would never avoid the degrees by which I will earn my time alone.

Tall words. Definitely.