an ode to whatever is represented


I was divagating in a fluidity of language
collecting in the subjective aroma of an objective pinpoint
a star deriving its presence by its undulating waste of light.

I contained the arching earth and the moon
pretended to shift through the clouds of a mind
like an unconscious mirror spinning.

The arrow of the sensation was pointed
towards a nectarous instant of sound
a long necklace of harmonies.

My hour is traveling through imaginary pleasing effects
the seconds are my mistresses in red corduroy –
the age – a vague perfume of disparate dimensions.





Nihilistic Poetry Blog


I’ve had the world
spinning on an idea
yet I never became
I never saw it good
or bad or evil
it was simply there
as a mystery
wordless play
and the more I look at it
the more it became
an idle dream. . .



Nihilistic Poetry