I come home after thirteen hours

and the house reeks of fermentation

I want to tip the bottles down the drain

until its throat turns purple

(the only way we knew how to respond to the vines taking over our wild hillside

was to open up our own whinery)

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The View from the Audience

The future was a carefully constructed lie

some live theirs out with smiling deceit

others accuse life for its duplicity

and leave the stage of actors for a humble seat.

From here we watch as the days wear on,

and I will make this bet:

our happiness was placed upon the horizon

only so that we might watch it set.

Roundelay

Force the knob, jam the door

I must get these words in line

but my sentiments lap upon the shore

of the strict structure of design.

So hold your applause for the encore,

and disregard this poem of mine.

 

But my sentiments lap upon the shore

of the strict structure of design

they threaten to drown the words evermore

morphed, tossed by the gentle sine.

So hold your applause for the encore,

and disregard this poem of mine.

 

They threaten to drown the words evermore

morphed, tossed by the gentle sine

cold and meatless, as before

is the rhetoric upon which I dine.

So hold your applause for the encore,

and disregard this poem of mine.

 

Cold and meatless, as before

is the rhetoric upon which I dine

oh but that I might have more

than all the wrong words so rightly aligned!

So hold your applause for the encore

and disregard this poem of mine.

 

– E

 

April PAD Challenge Update: 24/26.

The Book Collector

The stack of books never ceases to grow

I gaze fondly upon the titles

like one admiring wall art.

Inside one of them, Derek Walcott whispers

that the rustle of tree leaves is a lament

for all the pages of unread books.

This too has become white noise.

I have given over collecting images and ideas

for the satiating vision of prospective knowledge

–the promise of a tomorrow in which those vessels

will unleash all of their finely bound secrets.

 

– E