Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
He lies flat on the rooftop
looking at the stars.

Useless worlds birthing and dying
he muses
the colossal magnificence of waste

if atrophy is the verdict
why create a complex web of universe
just because someone from an island
would stare at them
in awe of the beauty
seeking a key to the riddle
himself a grain of dust
lost in reading the firmament
and not grasping
of what significance
he is
within his shrinking space and time
in an expanding universe.
~
Who can circumnavigate Avalon's depository and the palpable swoop down toward earthier terrain?

Yet, here I am.

Where is your gravity taking me, Kahn?

This building is an invitation, and I am humbled in this sense of arrival. The books are stored away from the light. So a man with a book goes to the light, the serenity of light.

And therein lies the hidden meaning.

But you won't let it become just a building; you want it to remain much a ruin; it's all somehow sinister in its celebration.

Occasional distraction is as important in reading as concentration.

And I'm reading between the lines in a corner carrel, looking out at academic crop circles; I grapple with each texture: it's this combination of imposing austerity and weathered familiarity that you seize upon to make your current landscape hospitable.

This building is an instrument, creates a sound in my head akin to music; and this music remains a glowing source of solitude, all driven by a desire to be hidden but sought after—a celebration of all things lost and unnamed.

Here I find closure by opening a book.
~
An ode to architect Louis Kahn's Phillips Exeter Academy Library in New Hampshire. It is the largest secondary school library in the world.
My shifting gaze caught yours, unexpectedly.
Your soul was like a calm sea, comforting my ever existence.
You called to me and then I flew.
That's when I knew, it was you.
In silence, we write. 
Without feedback, words fall flat. 
Poetry is extinct.
J
The sun drained a little more out
Of me today
Exchanged for the dim lit space

How good it was to return
With salt swept eyes
Into the cold to sleep

Tossing crazy thoughts all about
I cannot say
Enough about this safe place

Where we go,  fog-ged to learn
What holds the skies
Also what makes them weep
minimal
on the same paper
as before
i understand
Next page