mike-bartaWhisper

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KiliDear Mountain hello / I feel bad, I’m sorry / Everyone thinks you are this monster

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The EagleThe eagle is a pompous creature / It reeks of regality and significance / It’s superfluous and ignorant

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Light houseYou give purpose to my potential / The mess not made needs not be cleaned / Had I not you I’d need not me

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I wonder if I could do wellI wonder if I could do well / With words spinning round my sight / To try and write a villanelle

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FellingPictures are worth a thousand words, but how many pictures does it take to make a feeling. The feeling of a place that’s turning inside out as you’re about to leave, and you look back and can’t recognize the place it started as. And as much as you push and as much as you strive for your release from this place, at the end you will always think about the beginning. You’ll turn back and look for a final fond memory of that place you thought you wanted to leave behind forever. But you’ll look and see nothing but the warped world that closed in behind you as you ran for the gate. You’ll want to see it so bad you might even turn around to try and go back and find that place you left in such a hurry. But you can never go back. Going back means you’ll never go forward and always be looking for that familiar place, but you’ll never find it. You’ll also know that once you leave you’ll never be able to return. Once you walk out of this place you know it’s for the last time. Just as you come to terms with leaving that long lost place behind you’ll get a feeling. That feeling you get when someone says your name from across a room and you just barley know you heard it, or when you feel someone’s eyes on the back of your head and turn to see who is staring at you. Then you’ll take one last glance right as you’re about to leave, and everything will be just as you left it. That place you know and feel comfortable in will be back in its purest perfect form. If you really look you may even see someone who resembles a kid you used to know going into the once again pristine environment you are about to leave behind. This place will flash before your eyes one last time, all its wonder all its shame will hit you at once as you take your final steps. At that moment you’ll look back and if you are lucky, you’ll smile. Turn. And walk away. How many words or pictures could it take to make that one feeling?

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BioIf I knew anything about myself, / would I be writing poetry?

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You always knowhow is it you always know / when I'm sitting alone lost in thought / looking for that song that might prompt some thought

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Brought out of your nightmareBrought out of your nightmare / Still caught up in a haze / Luck split on the floor

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For ErnestIn the dark / Just making art

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