CLERKS
It takes an entity
of an office in between
god and genie
to separate the shy
from the introverts
Through a database of
Pandora propaganda
the entities surmise situation
dynamics
amongst a family on break
and an age breaking from
consent
Apparition communes of
a more invisible yet deafening
epitome exist
only in these huddled pocket
universes
in the whispered name
of circumvention
And as it is with all entities
the impression of existence
and a scripture
are the only guarantees
the congregation gets for free
HERE ARE THE OPTIONS
Here are the options
swimming like Stygian piranhas
in a siren-engineered terrarium
of terminals and cul-de-sacs
all campaigning for the ramrod thumb
of your inexorable resolution
There were bridges in the mix a time ago
Feeble things whose support beams
shrunk to weightless flakes in arrears of
each advancing footstep
As in a dance of purgatorial reincarnation
you drowned in varied currents of regrets
upon return to this dilemma
Coward you were branded for your many deaths
but your face conforms
to the circumference of no mask
Your naiveté refused to buy into
your principle of a reciprocated altruism
mercifully autonomous of character
and greased the grip your run relied on
for a favourable leap of faith
and enthused approval on arrival
Now you fear a future minus mainstream posture
in the wake of all the rocky friction
tattooed to your limbs upon escape from
wedgings in the chasms separating
the romanticism and disease of what you do
Lacking your security-exuding pose
you return to this mercurial vortex of options
You have jettisoned the loose avowal
that your instincts have not sold out
to trial and error
as a siren turns the tide and challenges
your battered but unaided body to be entertained
by fishing as it's never been before
DESTINY'S SPADEWORK
Miles and borders
Wedges
Wanderlust children
locked in the Sun's hula hoop
claim visions of sugarplum prairies
Downplayed mountains
speckle the globe
like tectonic acne
Topography's tease
Dimensions spawn
in the tatters of ambition
like fused particles of
colloquial bridges
Keyboards sprout vocal chords
and philosophies huddle under
shy amusement
humming to the hymn of a discovery
wrapped up in the chords
of enraptured fingertip choirs
REAPER PROMPT
Levitating like a liberated nightmare
over desperate clutches of a limp mortality
with jagged scythe channelling shark teeth
spearheaded by a needled fin of fatalistic intent
I scour catatonic instincts for an abscess of warmth
in the grey folds shadowing his black essence
(The faintest hope for a deciphering of weakness)
A cape of flaming pitch wavers in the crackles
of his path like the remnants of a live cremation
A hood aflutter flirts with the status of
a showpiece of excess in abyssal context
of an antithesis of face or any human semblance
susceptible to rationale's potential
I’m frozen in a prostrate of vulnerable
paleness pasted on my trepidation's stillness
Never have I felt so hapless in mortality
as his direction clarifies on an implied steed
under his impeding festival of shape-shifting advance
I am but a humble epilogue on human legs
in the presence of an answer to the question
pursued just enough to stay in a convenient ignorance
There can be no doubt in this phenomenon
I have found enlightenment in the darkest possibility
Steven Fortune is a resident of Sydney, Nova Scotia and a graduate
of Acadia University (English Literature/History). He has released five
poetry collections to date, edited several works for others, and has also
appeared on CBC Radio, while his work has been featured and read on several
radio programs. He also aspires to write for the stage and recently
completed his first one-act play.
Wow!
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