~burymybones
Will
I like these photos.
Newest
Half1. HalfHalf
One half of myself at the yellow
water edge of the lake, the other stuck
against its will in my pawn shop imagination, refuge of old and useless fortunes,
a thousand obsolete objects, and me
fumbling among them.
Underneath the refuse of an October sky, I cannot picture another way to live
but by myself. The water
seems emulsified in a grey fire. And just think, even these clouds
have traveled such a long way from
the rest of the world.
Today I am telling the strong-necked bird On the deck feeder
how I have alw
by ~burymybones
GravityOf course He had no intention of doing it that day, Stalling away morning And the frost that crept fingerlikeGravity
But which would later melt away
Tiny and unborn from the petals of grass.
He called blades of grass Petals, and thunder-storms showers.
He followed the variations of ice Everywhere in the house. A mirror, a window, The steel of a kitchen sink
Where his reflection held like gravity In a shallow glint of sun. He suddenly felt soft-blooded, Like a cat in a square of light, Caught in a blinding warmth.
by ~burymybones
Lost on a long road tripmy retina is slowly stretching, iris toughening, blindnessLost on a long road trip
tracks me like a television.
the cars too, gleaming angels scuttling the paths while pedestrians totter by.
this secret garden of glass. there is a dome, a roman arch,
and the sunlight naked as sculpture.
an image appears. a word appears. this is poetry.
the word disappears, nothing in place of it. and then
halfway across Illinois in my car I see Chicago
spread out like cheap insulation.
the world is far behind, a wet field glin
by ~burymybones
StoriesStories 1.Stories
And suddenly there was a bird In the dark blue between the trees.
2.
Four or five years ago when what was the darkest night
of the year came like a sudden sweat on the plains, my father was learning to use his arms again twitch by twitch, parked in front of the mirror
he bought from his doctors, while in the garden
the darkness settled like a body, and summer plants
sank roots into the salty dirt, promising vegetables
if only for rain.
3.
He kissed the wood in the Home Depot That smelled of a thousand
by ~burymybones
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Was Minnesota, now Baltimore
- Interests: guitar, music, poetry, breathing, etc.
- Favourite movie: Donnie Darko, or Juno. Or one of another million or so.
- Favourite band or musician: right now, sufjan stevens
- Favourite genre of music: everything
- Favourite artist: my sister. beksinski.
- Favourite poet or writer: random people.
- Favourite photographer: Bodine
- Favourite style of art: your own kind
- Personal Quote: We are our own ghosts
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