The Poetry of Ants
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So, there’s a dimension lodged between a fold in my brain matter. It is a wild, untamed land that can at one moment be a boundless void, and at another, a dense jungle. Like something between Jumanji and Narnia, it has as many manifestations and descriptors as the art that is birthed from that internalContinue reading “How I Write Poetry (sometimes)”
It is fragile.The paper barrier between flesh and air.The wind cuts through it like razorsAnd the beasts of the field stomp it down to mere dust They are fragile.The veins who transport life.The wine is spilledInto marrowIf the wine goes bad,then the the heart does tooFor it cannot tell blood from poison It is fragileTheContinue reading “It is Fragile”
I am made of staticA group of Infinitesimally small points on a three-dimensional gridAs I watched ants blanket the edge of the sidewalkI came to this conclusion Their rank and file were knotted up in a juncture between cement cracksI could not find room for a soul within that massNor the mass of my ownContinue reading “If the Soul is an Anthill”
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