The question remains
how long will we have to go
until the end comes
for when the end comes
we won’t know that it’s arrived
we will be over
breathlessly lying
in the position in which
we last took our form
the old paradox
goes something along these lines
every step taken
brings us closer to
what might be destination
but we are only
taking one more step
toward one more other step
and then another
if time were not real
we would have to invent it
so we could arrive
in the place we left
before we had forgotten
where we had been born
sometimes all it takes
for a stone to roll away
is to breathe one breath
Tag: Poetry
-
NaPoWriMo 21
-
NaPoWriMo 20
From this point on
everything that happens
is a metaphor for your life
No matter how dark
the journey may be going
to become darker
Even in lightness
particles become heavy
and empty old dreams
For a split second
I woke and it was still dark
sleep never comes back
Unfortunately
time makes no difference
between light and day
How many sleepless
waking prisons do we take
knowing only more
Unseasonable
doubt starts creeping in again
returning to dust
Words words words words words
you sir are a fishmonger
and unfold yourself
Cat upon my lap
it looks like I’ll be writing
several more haiku
Just kidding I’m not
ever staying up that late
meow and cat meows back
-
NaPoWriMo 19
As sure as midnight follows dawn
we are born with the sadness
of generations untold
not because the trauma of living
is passed through genetic code
or microorganisms teeming
with false equivalences
and smiling angry faces
that distort the story of everyone
who has a mother only
to be about who wins in the end
of a zero sum game with no rules
I’d like to think these tales get told
only on account of the boredom
of repetition and waking up
on the wrong side of the bed
for thousands of years thankfully
one day when the waking
stops only to discover a different
kind of awakening one that never
has to begin with sleep after all isn’t it
like that with those games
you used to play as a child
when all you could think of
as things didn’t go your way
and all your friends disappeared
over the hills as the sun set
you shouted out to no one
in particular—
Do Over
-
NaPoWriMo 18
The thin line dividing
what we were from
who we are is
getting thinner all the time
see how familiar songs
echo from living room
windows bouncing
off our frayed minds
as if to say we will
remember you who
sit there catlike and tonic
referring to the moon
in small doses of
the month that afters May
but follow me to
this river underground
where all our journey’s
end and try to figure
out what we are singing
above the dogs barking
and videotapes rewinding
back to this bridge
in seconds and reverse
recoiling and recall
a place of stasis
that says you are home
wherever you are not
and whenever you are
-
NaPoWriMo 17
All the brands are broadcasting
we’re all in this together
which is why you should buy
our thing instead of another
or hand over your data
which we promise we will only sell
at a tremendous profit
meanwhile they are blocking
the ambulances on the freeway
with extraneous vehicles as
they stand gathered against the glass
wearing familiar red imported hats
to voice their bluster concern
that the propaganda they consume
isn’t making them sick enough
meanwhile the paper of record
puts the photos of hospital workers
in black and white relief
as another way of saying
this hasn’t happened like this
in over a century and shouldn’t
be happening now except
for all the warnings in plain sight
that didn’t make it to our eyes
someone was blocking the view
-
NaPoWriMo 16
Some days a day passes
if you’re lucky
and it takes on an air
of familiarity
which is to say nothing
feels in its own place
the time is out
of joint and bones
rattle in their cages
singing if not for
notes reflexively
revolving around the room
becomes the window
outside of the moon
how many have there been
while you’re still in a chair
connected to a wire
vibrating the world outside
some days and not
too soon you can’t
count if you’re lucky
you’re still alive
and not waiting for the time
when you remember
the days starting over again
-
NaPoWriMo 15
Everything is breaking
if it is not already broken
the seams have split
until what is underneath
is over ahead of us now
not even the slightest bit
of ironic postmodernism
would prepare us for
the signature of an angry yam
delivered through the mail
deposited and garnished
as various other wages of sin
this is finally the last straw
no peeking behind the curtain
to see the madman pulling
strings and levers frantically
only one last fever text message
to say love will be done
even if we are no longer
there to deliver it from evil
for thine may be the kingdom
but spit can’t make it shine
and no one can see us mouth
the words we still need to say
‘Merica is tired of winning so much
it has to throw its food away
because it has eaten so much
there is nothing left to chew
and so much left for us to do
-
NaPoWriMo 14
Here we are
we are waiting for things to grow
outside or inside
it doesn’t really matter where
the smallest
indication might be the most reassuring
the grave
overlaid with weeds from untending
the path
so smitten with the turning of green
it is as if
no one has walked this way even
in the rain
thunder can’t keep the lightning away
an egg
waiting for its mother to hatch
and even now
with the sound of sound’s replacement
overbrimming
with fertile soil so restless for wake
it can’t keep us out
for we are shedding our old skins now
Here we are
we are waiting for things to grow
-
NaPoWriMo 13
Unwritten words hold
fast but slow music
perimeters of thought
what if the mind
retreated to a place
forgotten as one
who knows a language
not unlike this here
terrestrial extra
magnified by doubt
a pasture of plexiglass
clouds move in
along the shroud
covered bleaker streets
sirens swell empty
this dream of life
each day is a night
then a lifetime is gone
a very very mad world
as chords break
into singular notes
strung together to make
a whole of silence
and words form around
echoes of old songs
singing open windows
cold and broken
hallelujah
-
NaPoWriMo 12
The sanctuary
is empty
but so is the tomb
The faces
are scattered
all over the room
The music
is played
the words they are spoken
The bread
is baked
and then it is broken
We are
not present
we only are here
We join
together
in love not in fear
The sun
will rise
the grass is so green
We live
again
though as yet unseen
Joshua Keiter 