Going Across …
What are you going to do with this loss?
What are you going to do when it’s your time to go across?
Because that line is thin
and so we’re always trying to fill it.
To the brim with a desperate shadow,
creeping over the edge to spill it.
You point a finger
at the mirror of someone other.
Uninvited and spited
like you were Solomon’s brother.
but your coil is short.
You hold on for dear life
like the life of a deer who is killed for sport.
Everyone plays the part
that they think is royal.
Turns out all it is
is a life in their own soil.
You dig deep
like a mole in hiding.
But you get nowhere,
armor-plated with aluminum siding.
Your little bubble
is about to burst.
Drinking from the well
but dying of thirst.
I think I admire E. E. Cummings the most out of the great poets; because of his totally unorthodox approach. For substance, I like Walt Whitman. For rhythm, I like Edgar Allan Poe. For the raw stuff, I like Ginsberg. I also like a little Dylan Thomas.
As for my own writing, I like to explore deeper feelings but feelings that have broad meaning too.
Hope to share some of that meaningful writing here.