Sunday, September 20, 2015

An Ode to the Bombardment Squatron / Broken

An Ode to the Bombardment Squatron

The grand silence
before a historic happening
slips time.

In a deep ceramic well
of concentration
we empty
our mind
breathe slow
others smoke

on alert
anytime unclenching.
Then finally the awaking pop
of the drop – almost anti-climactic -

before sinking
deeper into a hole
of relief.

P.S.: This is definitely unprintable, mainly because of the subject matter, and its obsoleteness. This is like the sixth draft, and I don't think I have got it right. Still, I can't resist posting it here.


The moon a shard
of china plate.

What did she
once whole,

hold, to be now


P.S.: Edited. And still love this, no matter what others might think.

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