While my impression of the self
Remained statuesque and ornate
My sensation of the self
Sought out the wisdom of a substrate
An observer am I, as I seamlessly sway
Away from my shadows merchant
Chased by faces, The faces
I previously starved and once hollowed
I settle seized and baseless
Astray and trace-less
Trace-less, as I feverishly count my paces
Cauterized in the deluge dream
Materialized within sands crystalline
Saturated symbols
Of the collective Unconscious
Incite the lawless
Lust of the accomplice
Collapse and shatter
Sophisticated insignias
Prime and patter
Etherealized arrhythmias
Assail western skies
With enigmatic effigies
Impale an ecliptic disguise
With inglorious remedies
Ripen the incandescent
Irons of aberrancy
Imprison the flawless
Apparatus of uniformity
About the Creator
Jared Peet
Just a poet observing the patterns of existence.
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One Minute to Noon
“OK, guys!” I screech over the macaw-like chatter in my sophomore English class. My students are sharing mementos they accumulated during summer vacation. The assignment is to interview each other and write an expository essay about another student’s treasure: Misty’s coquina shells and sand dollars from Florida, Ruth’s two Navajo pottery mugs from New Mexico, Roxy’s perfume from Paris, Kevin’s chocolate from Hershey Pennsylvania, a picador’s sword from a bullfight in San Fermin Spain, where one of my favorite students, Manny Pérez, ran with the bulls at festival.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler4 days ago in Fiction
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