Monday, October 7, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
"i ruined you", you said
i was drunk again, and it sounded trite.
fermented on our bed we bought together
with our last dime, i remember
fights and times we stayed up all night
trying to make sense of our persistance
yet i still tried to write
except i didnt.
and i dont know why
maybe our stubbornness kept me floored
tummies filled and needed more,
(did you say that you scored?)
together in our atrophy
you gave me more, like i was aching to be cured
of your affliction, our addiction
it all started with being bored.
and then i cant write
i stare at these pages
wishing they would become something more
i havent written in forever, or felt like
my words matter
or anything did
it means nothing
Saturday, January 5, 2013
A silence which settles the night
It is not the absence of the yellow
in one’s bright eyes but
a slight cooling in the head, sealing
love to the sharp darkness.
Out of that black, my name comes sailing
in at me, chiffon and in
someone else’s voice, a
soft pin put to me directly. "Ross"
it says off the night. The voice says "Ross"
like Hamlet’s father. It falls from
At night you learn that you can’t talk
to yourself but only to Hamlet,
to his father, to a cliff.
off the world. Returns me to options
I think will be the same. A
feeling of uselessness
when I chuck memories into the
future. That I am chocolate in the sun
of some bright arrangement, made thick
in someone’s heated mind,
I don’t learn from my own poems.
To take the plum in one hand
and with the other wave myself
thru, forgetting the
orchards, that dazzling
in the warm light.
An old friend knows
enough to get off the
train when it can’t make
the next stop.
- Ross Feld