Phantasmagoria

stomach_of_the_sun_poem

He stopped the drugs
to console himself
with the open
lengths of countries
and the silver
fever of mountains
and when he left home
to return to thick everything
and books galloping shadows
fiery in the minute of knowledge,
in the day of life, through the wind
to a place where history
is built with azures
heavy in the hand
because to be born
here I am
like a quartz
inside the stomach
of the sun.

Contemporary Poetry

intentions

Drug of Time

Automata
eject the unconscious
under the wild smear
of the event

anger
a coil
like a spin
on the axis
of regret

together
like the skies
change as the seasons
of our fears

waiting
while creating
the future
that entertains us
like a drug
in the mouth
of time

 

Modern Poetry Blog