Ballad
The Light Between Two Windows
It was the kind of winter in New York City where even the streetlights looked tired. Snow clung to the sidewalks like forgotten promises, and the city pulsed quietly beneath its usual roar. Somewhere in the East Village, in an aging brownstone split into narrow apartments, two strangers lived across from one another, separated by little more than thirty feet of air and glass.
By Shakil Sorkarabout a year ago in Poets
Voicing (A Poem Bought Online)
Vis-à-vis. clever via null and void vernacular, veering from one end of a particular spectrum to another, my voice has the register of a violently vibrating out-of-control velociraptor sex toy(bought from Temu) dancing with General Pinochet, while Sia she dangles from her dang chandelier (bought from Wish). She's unstoppable—unless she's napping. If today is not the day she is unstoppable today. Is it a suggestion—mere interjection—a ramblification? This is not Keats. This is assault with a deftly unsheathed Thesaurus (bought from Aliexpress). Just say how hard when I say hump. Wait, I mean jump. Just say jump when I say how high.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
