Forts

Broken down, the All
was noplace, collectively
rather-scattering
That there is no longer
meaning
there is no there there
no such thing as a moral hunter
there will never be
a thing
that is
wholly itself alone
and shatter-proof. 
There was nothing to see
that would help us
recognize entanglement
as a knot to be undone. 




Artwork by Salvador Rosa (1615-1673) in Public Domain. 

De-hydration

There was I,
sitting atop the toilet seat after dark,
clutching the stemless wineglass with ice,
melting and prickling my fingertips with cold
beads expelled in an attempt at temperature
regulation.

My heart stomps and fills my ear
with an exasperated scream
about how hard it is to move
all this blood
to and from.

I do not drink wine,
my drink is called Karma,
its supposed to aid
digestion, I digress,
waiting in the mid-night
beads roll down my temple
and I shatter atop the frozen tiles

Waiting

as my Karma becomes diluted.


Painting by Sebastian Stoskopff [Public domain].