Awoke enraged, not so abnormally early,
as of lately, over the years.
It was
when the pieces of to-day come
to-gether, jagged edges
fit like drifting continents
Mean-while
I feel the Red Sea churning in me,
a chemical nadir or lake-effect
chill, the miasma of yester-day
post-comatose and
it all seems circumstantial.
To each their own:
Reaction, dreams-re-action, re-sponse
in a more vulnerable way,
most appreciated
On Sundays
with all the
preaching, humility,
and alms, atonements that sound
off, and on
faint echoes-chants of fury flare up
As I smolder
screens and screams of forgiveness
do not alleviate the weight,
some may say, silently changing forms
from matter to steam
was all one should wish for
one another.
Painting by Frank Buchser, 'Portrait of a young woman' 1868 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Painting by Frank Buchser, 'Portrait of a young woman' 1868 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
