The black oak is faded
by the continuous skating of drinks:
mugs, snifters, goblets and pint glasses.
They remain stationary in formation,
anticipating the next pair
of thirsty lips to arrive.
With every drop that pours
in the glass, reality is put to rest.
Existing predicaments
and emotions are directed elsewhere.
A fatigued being sits across from me,
with a physique similar to mine.
He comes at the same time as I.
I see him day-to-day,
like a shadow, from sun to moon.
I’ve never see him depart, but
he’s always in my view.
In his hand, a glass dripping in its sweat.
As he clasps it securely, like a wrench,
he devours his poison
and without a spoken word;
he is detached from this world.
When I catch a glimpse into
his disoriented eyes, I see contempt;
but, a smirk rests delicately on his weary face,
as if he knows who I am, and the reasons why
I pick[ed] up this glass each day,
He knew I couldn’t bear to look
at my own reflection.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
A frigid February night,
the moon resplendent in its fulgor,
while a prevailing bristled cold wind
dashes across my dry face,
I inhale the cold, brittle air:
nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon dioxide,
whistle through my lips,
like a trice ballet, it delivers life into my lungs
hoarfrost, as huellas are left behind,
in remembrance of its path.
At night I feel at ease,
beyond what
an aubade can offer.
Gazing up into the dark abyss,
I am overwhelmed by the
union of neighbors that float above me
in sync with the moon:
Mercury, Venus, Saturn, Mars, Jupiter,
and the assemblage of mythological
Greek god’s only visible before dawn,
watch me, observing my every move.
Winds encircle the night,
disrupting the stillness of
the undressed oak trees,
their branches swaying back and forth
as to wave hello, or is it a goodbye?
Winterberry hollies dance at their feet,
untouched snow glistens,
and mirrors the dazzling assembly of stars.
Within the woodland, mysterious sounds
echo through the silent, cold:
a cackle, a flutter, yipping creepy sound,
nature’s orchestra coming at me
from all directions,
cautiously listening, as I attempt
to decipher the resonances.
I exhale.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC