Cataloging the Detritus of my Life
It is late.
The horned moon declines
As I lay my head
Into soft down
That feels
Like soft skin.
And I dream
That in your arms
I am held.
You are gone
Under a sun that
Is never veiled
In clouds.
A light, heat
I could not sustain
And, so I lie,
Here,
Bathed in the cold
Pale glow
Of weakness.
And I wish I could wake up
Wake up to new life,
New love, new you.
How?
It can’t…
The first chapter is done. Twenty pages of hard sci-fi turned into one really confusing poem. With 243 pages left in the book. This project seems a lot larger in scale now than it did when I first started it. I originally thought that I could construct a poem out of each page in a bout ten or twenty minutes. Experience has shown though that this normally takes about an hour or more. Especially, so when skimming over the page I’m constructing two parallel poems and trying to decide which one will work best.
It’s been interesting, fun, and challenging. I don’t know if I’m learning anything yet from the experience.
“Get him!”
Alone
Cut off
I saw it
the open.
Far away,
A shield,
Too far away
Is alive.
Walk away?
Taste it?
The bombs and fire
That weigh [you] down.
