the years are bubbles

dead years

Everything I perceive
tastes like bread
and mystical

I exist in such
a small place
light sometimes
feels as thick as
molten rock

it is
a world like a vein
an élan going
round and

the smoke
has swelled
up in the cantina
growing into threads
trapped in this

I call
and a pistol
a dizzy me

in space
and little sorrow
I left this year

with the bubbly


poetry blog

3 thoughts on “the years are bubbles

  1. like bread, drenched and mystical. that stood out for me. i wanted you to stay there, in that thought… not overly. i was eating a sandwich, which may have affected my judgement. you caught my interest. hooked it again with the last phrase.

  2. I wrote this throughout the day yesterday. Phrases may be disjointed, but I agree. The first one was the stellar moment, I wasn’t even eating or anywhere near of bread, got out from swimming hall pool, looked around and that’s what came to mind.

  3. haha yes i figured you werent actuallly with bread… my sandwich, i have a strange approach to communicating… that first phrase is perfect, ys.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s