the mythology of others

Gradually adding recorded readings to my written poetry.

12 Degrees & Skiving

in the absence of myself
in my failure to correspond please read not
between those lines you seem to see
painted stark white on your road
for they have been laid down by your hand
and so they don’t exist in my terrain

or perhaps they stretched out always
rivering around nook and rock
obscured by those places
that don’t know the clocks in your quadruple-time universe
and despite the vicinity of the same sun
which causes such spin
from a trajectory I didn’t know I was part of
i was amputated
a glitch in orbit,
a piece of dumbly-iced flotsam that found itself
awed, though not always
and this perceived complacency sank me
from knee-deep to neck
in a matter of syllables and presumptions
left me to incubate and tongue a newly-hatched mythology of another
uphill into the airless

call me Cassandra, call me Sisyphus, call me at a…

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