EJ Aghassi Aug 16

‪consciousness ‬
‪the chemical reaction ‬

‪the growing of trees ‬
‪and the silent cascade‬

‪of hardened browned‬
‪leaves, dropped to their knees

and it never makes any more sense
EJ Aghassi May 11

nana gave me cash
for gas--bless her heart--and still
i spent half on Pabst

a haiku for my grandmother
EJ Aghassi Apr 16

look at how we squander it

essence, pulse,
all perfect fits

the meanings, feelings

senses filled
we project vomit

hatred and ill-will

what does that say
about a kind, that

sifts in its own shit

to calm its mind
while making a break

towards some horizon

but just imagine being
beyond, any need to

feel shallow belong

oneness,  one wholly
you whole thing

to bring whole one

feeling within, the
shallow makings

of humanity, in this

perpetual state
of apathy

EJ Aghassi Mar 10

Static still void slowly
Reveals through blurred
Lines and smeared paints

The figure of love or some-
Thing familiar enough. I sit
Suspended between two

Languages, indebted to
Different philosophies, and
At any given time I find

Teeth loosed from my mouth
As they are ripped out; sour
Taste of an omen ever

Present on my taste buds,
Ever scraping my knee
Caps as I fall to them

In some rapture, I bleed
My youth on dusk bathed
Blacktop of the school

Yard. I see towering womanly
Love, a monument to shake
Foundation, almost completely

Out of view, piercing overcast
Skies, yet not taking any
Clouds with it. I sit on ornate

Carpets of kebabs & half
Filled tea cups, stomach
Deep in some obscure

Fear of my desires. The dog
That loves me most of all
Is never allowed inside

The house. He sits valiantly
Outside, chained to a
Watermelon tree. Heavy

Heavy things all around me,
All things light and
Soft, even in sleep stasis

Feel ever as ever
Out of reach; beyond even
The scope of my dreams.

Some more rough experimentation with surrealism; trying to explore moments of my childhood as a dream.

See "Empire of Dreams" by Charles Simic.
EJ Aghassi Mar 8

Lovers circle
Their glass Sabbath.
Hands like magnets

Find joy in funeral.
Death of sex, a
Tornado of fire

Of the senses. The
Asteroid that shed

Her dress now crashes
Into the cactus, standing
Stone-faced and rooted

Deep in Earth.
Ordinary planets
Ring saint birth

On Thursday. Angels,
Paperclip assassins, rope
Bankers and truck drivers-

The ribs of Utah in the winter.
The cage that guards
A snowglobe heart. Mid-

Center shiver shaking,
Continental breaking
And aching, the shallow

Foundation of
Some growing space,
Suspended in static

Tribute to the ideal.
The cactus now this
Blank-faced man,

Sick framed mannequin
Dressed in scarlet
Remembrance, knee-deep

In strained white somber.
Sweet pair of sobbing,
Feeling faith found again

In the rain that water-
Logs the gasping pores
Of some colliding flesh,

Vibrating and ringing
Warm cold as the star light
in your hair. You fish me

From your hairbrush
At the wake of cosmic
Death. Downstream, the

Next of kin of now fallen star
Whirl and cross, clasped in
Stellar embrace until

They splatter the gray stains
Of memories past upon
This cheaply made scene,

The spread of this mute
Moonlight; This granite
Distance is a well.

Any and all feedback or support would be greatly appreciated.
EJ Aghassi Feb 16

I check the clock knowing time, 
at least, won't lie—
Two hours past 3
And that place down the alley isn’t open

The sun shines brighter than ever,
The strained pavement is hot and
Covered in cigarette butts

The garage door is locked 
And any sense of sanctuary now locked behind it

I turn back, resigning myself to
Burying my thoughts alive
Deep beneath the workday

The time passes,
All-too-many pores sweat and my
Back hurts like my stomach drops flat

I step outside this familiar prison and collapse
At the feet of lunar light surrounding me,
Bats whirl overhead and
My heart races faster and faster

Ivory, delicate ivory,
Clutching the silly purple sweater
That I remember you smiling to see me in

Head now down to the floor and
This same silly sweater becomes a metaphor 

These fabrics of your absence
Caress my tired flesh

There was a time where I counted
Weeks by kisses on the cheek

Not quite butterflies but similar insects,
Though they didn’t have wings,
Could be felt whirring through my nerve endings,
Their presence at the pit of my anxieties,
Squirming through the muck

But now my feelings fill that space
In its current state, damp and muddy
Left in the wake of sensations past
Something beyond the spoken word

Between what is known and unknown

A question without an answer, the
Suspended seconds before free fall

The eye of the hurricane or
The voice trapped within a ringing phone

Something that exists before it’s realized
Chaining two things together
Existing only in its own negative space

And now
A familiar feeling finds me
In the midst of my focus fading,
Car parked in the same old spot

But only now do I realize how foreign this land is, how
Impossible it is to reach from where you last smiled at me

This silly purple sweater wraps
Me tightly with what refuses to exist,
I'm drowning in the this feeling of
The only time you'll ever hold me

These savage fabrics at my lips and throat
Smother me with the affection
That you never in my half-life will have

EJ Aghassi Feb 12

Clawing precious time;
Making sure your name's spelled right;
I think I love you.

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