New poem from the lastest issue (79) of miniMAG. You can read it here: https://minimag.space/
A Reacquaintance
That thing you see in the mirror
every day that flesh-and-bone
miracle
is not really you;
it’s just something for you
to keep a little while and discard
like an empty tomato can.
It’s not you.
Not your hair, your nose, not your throat,
your genitals, feet.
It’s a loan, a metaphor, a means for growth.
Nothing to grow too attached to.
Nothing to do
with the real you
the lying alone you
the dormant you
lying in bed at 2:30 a.m., listening to the night
creatures and gongs of thunder
Your tongue tastes of something raw.
Your breath catches.
You have forgotten about your job,
your family, your responsibilities & goals.
It’s just you here. A theater with echoes
and no audience. A god
born into darkness.
An old friend
who knows.
Sketches from Berlin (& Parts Beyond) 