Failed Visionary
Am I empty at the core or just around the edges?
Are there riches therein? I wouldn’t know.
I’m weighed down in a warm white glow,
crushing the stark yellow dullness of the day
into dust, statically and statelessly drifting
through this haze of rust. Riding the waves
of lostness across the landscape of a desk,
into the bulwark of a threadbare curtain.
Posted in Inertia Variations | Leave a Comment »
Maybe it should be accepted, even if it is unwanted.
After all, it is a gift, wrapped in expectation
and filled with hopelessness: a delicately dull grind.
Just give up, let go,
let the low hanging fruit die on the vine.
Posted in Antiepithalamia, Scratchy Ink Drawings | Leave a Comment »
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John Tottenham