Precarious Everything

Feeling no wind

flames flicker

in palpable air




take risks again


painful longing for days

taken for granted


Will this moment in time

be romanticized?

Surely not.


abstract serenity until silence

is broken by the roar of jet engines.


Backyard Genocide

-over one hundred tadpoles in a broken pool.

-what will happen when they grow legs?

Will it be the ten plagues all over again?

This star is shrugging off rays of light now shining

on this roof, but only for a little while.


While my heart strings spread

each root will overtake me,

and all of these thoughts

will be for naught.

3 replies on “Precarious Everything”

This reminded me of an Ezra Pound quote in which he refers back to a Roman writer saying that you could tell if an empire is crumbling by the state of the country’s literature, or something along those lines.

suffocating in the shadow of the light
remembering the life , which had day and night
Plague is new, it doesn’t need germs to grow
Just a bizarre thought can destroy nations in a blow

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