By the River

The downpour must be waiting for something.

A Free Verse Poem

All the spent brush littering the hillside to the right,

mostly brown to the left as well,

railroad tracks not far behind, hidden by the slopes.

“I swear it’s beautiful in the spring.”

Continue reading “By the River”

Lost in the Fire

used my spirit as kindling

I built a campfire over me, used my spirit as kindling,

added some branches,

layered log after log, log-cabin style,

lit it with a match.

The wood burnt,

things shifted after being singed to dark and lifeless hues.

More branches,

matter changed,

chemical reaction,

all the same.

I’m now trying to find the ashes of myself at the bottom.


Photo by takenbytablo from Pexels

Yeah, I Think

I like it here.

The heat of the lid is unbearable. My fingers have lost their ability to withstand that kind of warmth.

I swear I could handle it when I worked at a restaurant.

I could also heft those cardboard boxes containing a heavy bag of soda syrup.

Sometimes, I would gently poke a finger through the hole I would rip in the cardboard, feeling the squish of the plastic pouch and the sugar water.

I was never a huge fan of soft drinks before, but even less so after hauling those boxes around the basement and hooking them up to the tubing that ran to the soda machine upstairs.

I also don’t really eat food warm anymore, either. Flavors seem more balanced to me when they are at room temperature, but they’re not bad cold either.

I will make an exception this time.

Maybe I’m ravenous.

Maybe this food isn’t the only thing I hunger for.

Maybe I would like this moment to last a lot longer, but maybe I would like to get onto the next one and the next and the next.

I just hope those future moments are as good as this one.

All of this is to say yeah, I think I like it here.


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