There are times when the thought of living fills me with exuberance. I think of poetry, art, and music, and an insatiable hunger to create seizes me. But then, there are times when the thought of existence distresses me and fills me with the dread of a pagan on Judgement day. And though I look […]Read more "On ashen pools and fire"
Beloved, I’ve immortalized you in sonnet after sonnet; making you a blushing tulip in the soft heat, or a grey pearl that heals disease, but my lines meet oblivion. How I wish you were the thrush that sat on my windowsill and pleased me with its aubade. How I wish you were the Dandelion in […]Read more "Well, if you’re really into unrequited love…"
Before they arrived, we had our ideas of what they’d be like, and often wondered if they existed at all. But when they did, our powers of comprehension failed us, and we couldn’t fathom who they were, and what they did to our world. I remember that day more than any other. We didn’t see […]Read more "Them"
I walk on a cobblestone path in the rain, passing construction sites and industrial areas in the grey twilight of the evening. I skirt a puddle or two, but I’m not trying to escape the rain. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. The sky darkens with each step I take, and an ambulance sings […]Read more "On rainy days and contemplation"
Dearly Beloved, We solemnly gather here to mourn the passing of Beauty. There was a time when aesthetes roamed the countryside and marveled at the greens and the oranges and in the whistle of the thrush, but those Keatsian dreamers are dead, and their ecstatic odes now lie in powdery hardcovers that no one bothers […]Read more "Elegy"
He spends most of his time within the confines of his dusty room; walking to the balcony now and then for a smoke. If you were to talk to him, you’d think that he’s another impressionable, naive man building castles in Spain. But peer deeper into those brown eyes, and you’ll know a deeper shade […]Read more "Vindication"
I live in a beige apartment with off-white curtains and a grey marble floor. There’s an old piano in the living room that I never use, and an untuned guitar and a screechy clarinet stuffed in a cupboard somewhere with piles of unread, dusty books. Dust from a construction site nearby flits into the balcony […]Read more "Here’s to life"