At the forefront
The scraggly surface collected
A small pool of quiescent glaze
Pulsating a history of
A thousand graves singeing
This placid pool reminiscent
Of Romulus mending walls
In the eyes of a storm
The Watcher.
A hyperbolic scream:
A worm interposing
Squished in the warmth
Embrace of this Deluge
In minute form
Yet with that same idiotic form
Until this drop drops
And like glass
Came crashing, shriveled, screaming
smiting and cutting
The wherewithal of things to come.
Here comes finality
Simulating this broken image
To that of tap water
And next door neighbors quarrelling
And crying engines, horns, laughs
Here comes the
Ululation of the urge
The urge and imprisonment.
Get out of here
Swim through the air
Resolute of nothing
But finality
Therefore the clarity
Still shrouded in misery
The urge to trap
The stillness of this all
Ripping it afterwards
Racking the flesh
For the buzzards to feast
come here, all of you
Here is finality
Let the cold dry the
Wetness, no towel
Will hurt the skin no
More, lying down
On the floor
Eyes of water
Eyes of glass
Another drop
it will come to pass.
* * * * * * *
OF SPACE AND PSYCHE was the Grand Prize Winner (Poem Category) in ISTAKEL: THE 3rd GAWAD SAN MARCELINO (2003). This poem was first published in Adamson Chronicle’s Artificial Insomnia (San Marcelino Literary Folio, Volume 8, No. 1, June 2003).
For prize, I was given a cute fiber glass trophy, an expensive Parker sign pen, and Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being which I did find unbearable. The trophy broke off from its base twice, but I successfully glued it back like it never broke. The fountain pen, however, is lost somewhere in my apartment.
