Solid Quarter

Visit Trembling Pillow Press for poetry books, broadsides, chapbooks, and Solid Quarter Magazine.

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Friday, October 16, 2020

Travel this Devastation



they say we want to see the way others do but it's a lie we keep telling. we don't want to hold a[n] [other's] sorrow. don't want to know what the dead eyes collect. oh even now, this is a wrong headed way of saying a lot of nothing. of evidence to suspend care. the world is loops and swirls, the edge dusted to experience: come round so often, i forget the calling of it. here we again, here we forever. can you say with any certainty what the mind is supposed to be doing. what does it look like in a breaking. to be on both sides. to be so saddled with arranging, i can not comply with the hours of every dayness. i was slipping to the farthest reach. i was somewhere between and half remembered. why not even words could carry. i was so lazy now i will say just about anything to make you disappear.

universes that spindle, i was dead
a long time before i came here
i architect these walls to keep 
you would a life    hand you down
i stay masked under, you get her in a well
you sit a good, long spell
i'm going to speak to you over the headset only 
you'll have to forget everything you are to listen 

it's natural to wince/ it's brave to keep looking 

all the best parts of living round a little dying 
perfect in this turning 
who keeps time   now
who is keeping time 


my love for you turned gentle, i didn't want to be undone by it either, just stay awhile & i'll keep the sound low, the lights down low, the way my heart longs for you to hold, low. yes, even my wanting i can turn down the volume so low now it won't disturb nothing. 
 
 there were a lot of hours spent cataloguing excuse
what will we explain. 
once upon a time there was a reason 
for writing
 
 
 
 


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