It isn't mine, but I am compelled to share it regardless. Perhaps I will be moved to take up the pen as my journey through this collection unwinds.
Trust Me
A drowning dream. Look up. Sunlight snickers
on the swells as fingers trail a calm
and vicious scratch across the surface
of an unsung lake and a boat rocks like a bed,
away. You know there's a town nearby,
but that it's dank and full of felons bent
on some shady hoiday. Wake up. The ceiling
is awash with daylight chunnelling through the blinds.
Streetcars ride thin rails across the grid, noise
and indescision at the stops. When to get on. When
to get off. How much time is there to kill
and how much money is enough. Wise up to the rule.
It's fierce, squatting on the track between *yes,
of course I will* and *you fool, you fool.*
Karen Solie
(asterisks mine, indicating italics which I cannot add with the interface to which I am constrained)
The ill-remembered cache of salveagable works has, upon more thorough examination, had very little salveagable about it. Realizing the mediocrity of my past efforts has been humbling. Encountering the arrogance of my youth, who once condescended to stress grand principals of high philosophy with some sort of imagined authority, has been mildly nauseating.
Much of what you see here has been wholly fresh. It is for this reason that updates filter in so irregularly.
COMMENTS
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Joli
11:13 Oct 21 2024
Felt my heart engage with thoughts of being on those tracks, so familiar to me now