Grid of wooden slats,
Oddly translucent vinyl roofs.
My open window.
Lol I’m thinking about someone again!
Willpower, urges, control, planning.
I don’t want to fuck a stranger
I want to fuck— I don’t think
I will. It’s raining on the covered
Section of our back patio
And I love the sounds.
My eyes still sore with sleep.
Small feet, a squirrel, its blurry
Shadow. The sight was wonderful,
First upright then reversed.
Two days in a row I pulled the Chariot
And I know what I’m supposed to feel
but I don’t think I will.
I promised not to talk
About the sky but it was gorgeous.
The single cloud streak, power lines, pieces.
I won’t talk about it.
No one will believe me
So I return to my dream
Of sitting alone in the grass.
Can’t we be simple this once?
The river running, words
Running but the sky in
Pieces. I can’t remember
Pink, there is just an empty
Awe. What happened to me?
I know it doesn’t matter but
I try to remember everything.
I try to make my dream realm
sharp as blades, green and vivid,
dewy pink in waking hours.
About the Creator
Joe Nasta
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.