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annh Oct 2020

I write to right the write-less, the unvoiced compendium of my experience. A

panoply of shadows between each line and behind the fumbled words miswritten

out of loyalty to the fiction I maintain. The letters which move beneath the page,

scintillating with suggestion, leaving their impression - a glimmer here, an echo

there; they are more honest than the fraught narrative that I deem fit to 'save'. I

write to right the write-less, to balance the unwieldy, to illuminate the intangible.

‘Every act of reading is an act of forgetting: the experience of reading is a palimpsest, in which each text partially covers those that came before.’
- James A. Secord, Victorian Sensation: The Extraordinary Publication, Reception, and Secret Authorship of Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation
Andrew Rueter Feb 2020
Last night I slipped into a nightmare
you and I were deep into a game of Madden
when my player fumbled the ball
and my emotions overtook me
as the controller flew from my hands
breaking on the unforgiving tiles.

You looked at me incredulously
your disappointment apparent
I fumbled for the words to call a timeout
as I could feel control over my image loosening
and falling with your respect onto the turf
where everyone feels free to pile on.

Unwilling to fumble any more moments
I texted you when I woke up
fumbling for the right words
to tell you I love you
and you called me a ******
as the phone fumbled from my hands.
Kale Dec 2019
The golden sun
Sets on the oceanic view
Kissing the traveler
That fumbled his way
through the soft sand.
The traveler mourned
for the touch of his
spouses warm embrace
But all he could
do was watch her
From his unearthly plane

— The End —