The Image in Ice

It all began with a desperate need to be free and some coin in a purse…Beware the ice.

A Few Words of Parting

I find myself at some bar

in the middle of some tiny island paradise;

my own pair of eyes

watching someone play with a pair of dice;

surrounded some clear,

calm seas,

capped with some clear, calm skies;

sipping on some clear, calming drink;

the first or the sixth — it doesn’t really matter,

I’m not really there. I’m picturing myself daydreaming about being on some grassy field

with some hills before me.

Panta Rhei

Once there was a fish who lived in a vast and near-endless ocean…

From the End to the Beginning

Ever have one of those moments after waking up from an extendedly long sleep to find yourself unable to recall how you got somewhere, just like the very place you were now waking from?

That’s about how I feel right now.

‘All Earth was but one thought
and that was Death.’

— Lord Byron

Ticker Tape

A starving street urchin.

There was so much screaming, I’ve never heard a man scream so much.

I took this worse than losing Pluto as a planet: planetoid-rage.

Cerulean Dream

In the shadow
of this Rocky desert monad
resided an impossibility:
a secluded and exclusive resident.

36 Ghosts

Memories are like ghosts:

some need to be exorcised

if we are to be more

than the hauntings

of our past.

The Poison that Cures

Born out of a dark time between March 2017 and June 2018, these poems press on the reflection of a certain realization and revelation I had experienced, whether I wanted to or not.

“The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.” – Czeslaw Milosz

Broken Toy Soldiers

Born out of a dark time between December 2016 and January 2017, these poems are a further reflection on a certain realization and revelation I had experienced, whether I wanted to or not.

“Whereas the philosopher tries to get the heavens into his head, the poet asks only to get his head into the heavens.” – G.K. Chesterton

Category: Poetry