Bryan Gewickey

Bryan Gewickey May 2013

In the darkest of trees, there are no shadows:
only absence.
But all hope is slight Christ,
,all Light part divine but dim and not whole
but never un.
I do not move but by Your movement
and all circles are my love almost,,,
but Glory is an endless-
a static swirl a crimson forest
paved into One/(th)f(ree)

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

A elegy to gentelity

Please and thank you,
so curtsy often
to the brown and gold
array arras errat error
and enter
politely,
for a new age-
is much less a new page
turned,
than old pages burned.

To think and dream is not the age we are,
but blatant blatancy
berates the timid temperance of tolerance
in such a brutal light
that tiptoes are required footwear
for all 6 companies that run
the treadmill of deeliteful light.
and it delights in light
and fruitless
useless
brooding
foolishness.
iamtalking of course
about the horse,
the dog,
the cat,
the viral virus of vermin
-
to break up our monotony,
all that is necessary is
to be willing
to shed the opinions of the mass
-ive ignorance
and think,
but more than most,
to breathe in compassion

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Clam 2

One -
                                          loose leaf clam
                                                                    held hostage
                                                                                                by a lark,
                                                     left full by
                                                             harmless
spears
, a dark,
encased
in ribs and chewing
blood
like gum,
aground
of wicked
shrimp
left
dealing
lies to
deaf seals
and hurried
sand.
Oh, Wind of all 1,000 colors
broken to a prism
of loss
, that is life,
a bridge
, that is burns,
a free
reign        ,
my King,
a conquering
kitten,
Three
Fires
undone to splinters
of a Wood worn
to waves
of glass, an endless Sea, Lion-lined bones set free.

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Clam 1

Calm clam
                       I command you
                                                               DANCE,
                                                for all the world is shivering
                                                       and your foot
is a fire
                                                     a-tingle
with wood and
                                   what some say sorcery
                                         others say forgiveness
                                            and Blood like mine
                                          is far from wine,
but made for blanching
                                                    snow, - -
to fall
                     deep
-lee
                             into ropes,
oh       stretching
                                                                         cords wrapped deepened
                                                                from my lungs,
                                                              all my organs build a latch,
                                                             a gate, a sink,
                                                        a house,
                                                                        a humble mansion
  for a crumble-man:sinned
and
                 tor
che
                             d///     to spirits
                                                              of
                                                                     a
                                                                          liquor.
                                                  To build again a fire,
                                                    not flames,
                                                       but a W(Holy)
                                     consumption,
                         "I am not dead yet", but once soon I will.

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Untitled

lots and lots of planes
have shoved the air
aside like leaves
or broken
many hearts with distance
but we are never hurt as much as we hurt ours
elves
and sothe magic is
in
healing,
not from battles
but
from
feeling
and the mind that tells the heart
what grandeur that it
lacks

Bryan Gewickey Feb 2013

What has us is never

It is
wonderfully vague
how I can
never not
be nothing
or even
stay the
same.
How we
all know
we are
but dying
is not
a fashion
yet.
And if
we change
from dying
to death
I think
I know
we live
again.

Bryan Gewickey Nov 2012

the apprehension burns

the terrors of losing are not the loss.
it is not from our hearts
but our lungs that break
when the you that was here
becomes the you that I fear.
it goes from presence
to .
(and the hardest thing
is knowing you still exist
when you are all that i miss)