Poetry

i

I’m tired
of the heights –
of all the philosophies
of stars
of all the cosmologies
of tears

my bed now
is the corner
of a passing second
I let the rain in
to drown
all the intelligent answers

I want to be
as ordinary
as a crumb of bread
on your sleeve
or as the mustache
that is shaven every day

I’m tired
of all the pompous
universes that we dream
and of the fantasy and sorcery
of constellated thoughts

my mission
now
is to dissolve as
bits of soup
in the drain
or
broken fingernails
in the dirt

the whirlpool of wisdom
comes to a halt
and I am
as cold and tame
as a shadow
lying
under a streetlamp
every minute
of every night.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

of the circle

A moments
core wandering
many hands invented
touching me – us
moment + the inner uncertainty
touched by silhouettes
possibly a mother
whose age is light and clarity
in a moment
the thought of progress dies
a face remembers the rock
of the bone

a circle around the things
we know

beyond it
the heart of the things
we cannot love.

Nihilistic Poetry

solid air

Don’t know how to drive.
Can’t even park
into huge chasms
of disquietude.
How can I comb
the hair of my
marble personality
under
the incredible wobble
of the universal flux –
my feet are spaghetti
and the air around
one gigantic block
of solid
impossibility.
I can’t breathe,
my incomplete dreams
have begun unfurling
in an inexplicable atmosphere
of suffering.

Nihilistic Poetry

the breadth of a breath

death poetry

it is in that last
place
where life is surrendered
and in one flicker
we must die
absolutely

forgiving
beauty
for having existed
and now
been taken away
in one last
absurd breath

every moment
revolves around
that final moment

and if there is any meaning
it is this

the immeasurably short present
being swallowed by nothingness

all details
consumed and
blurred

it is this
single and
isolated tick
of time

where we live
and
unendingly

shiver.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

a new temple

Modern Poetry

Meet
me

ageless

in
the
streets

we’ll
be bums
smoking
and
in flux

I don’t care
what the
price is
to
be

pure

as a
cigarette butt
burning out
in your
primordial
fingers

meet
me

to
announce a new
temple
for the
boundless:

a park bench
and empty beer
cans
at our
feet.

 

 

 

nihilistic poetry

distillation

poetry distillation

the shape of your neck
wrestling with my focus

I could have smiled
and twirled a spoon
in my coffee
to taste the dimensions
of your spiraling
lips

I’ve wondered
how your body
would resist
being against a window
freezing like dew
in the dawn

all that we study
to forget
the longitude
of an instant

laughter
– yours –
dripping
from above
and there is no
sky here

let’s repose
and dissolve
like heat
ripples
from a distance

over
an unfamiliar
path.

nihilistic poetry

a stroll

flux

I saw it
and
I knew

my heart
was laying
there
on the
streets

I came closer
and studied
it

it was half
an apple
no bites
not even a nibble

and in it
was all
that I call
my heart

what is the meaning of life
asked a kid
as he pulled on
my sleeve

nothing is what it seems
I said

I left the
half-apple
behind
uncertain of
where it will end

it’s
strange
as it
is

to find
my essence
in such a
trivial object
standing still
amongst all
the flux

so I walked
away
not caring
of the consequence
of caring
too little about
what consequences
are

whatever
that means.

 

 

 

of whatness

piece of truth

what
was
it

this
fable
of deformities

life

when all
thought
is of the size
of a grain
of rice

and you shave
to feel the snow
on your cheeks

clueless

of how you
indefatigably
will love
the next
occurrence

in this
fable
of ideal
encounters
with something
real.

 

 

 

NIHILISTIC Poetry