Haven’t been writing much as of late (it’ll come back, it always does) but I wanted to shamelessly promote my new music curation blog, in case you wanted to keep up with little old me. Check it out, you might find something you like.
If you find yourself here, take a few minutes and listen to something new. You’re not going to like all of it, but something just might stick and make it all worth it.
- Seagull
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The Spear of Euphorbos
I am immune to her, it is as though
I were dipped in the Styx by my heart.
She cannot hurt me, cannout rouse me,
Cannot drive me to that desperation
which instills fear into my gods.
If she cannot vanquish me, then
How can she hope to temper me?
At her side, there is only the one future
Singularly suspended in its niceness.
And there I see the thing I fear most:
Comfort and all of its boredoms,
Boredom and all of its niceties.
There is no triumph for me here,
How can there be?
I have been this person already.
I would rather return to the field and lament.
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Prometheus, Six Months In
New pains are dulled by repetition,
Eroded by routine, habit, monotony
Curse you, Aion, and the funny ways
In which you invert my sufferings
Every day I wake to watch the sunrise
Over a world which changes
Not fast enough for my liking
The birdsong is the same as yesterday’s,
The clouds find no new shapes to mimic
I find myself bored, dreaming instead
Of what today’s torture might entail
O Jupiter, I welcome your wrathful talons,
They remind me that I am still here,
That there is still something of me
To feast upon and exploit
Give me the eagle’s beak over the shackles,
My restraint is more cruel than my destruction;
At least when I am destroyed I may choose
How to put myself back together again
Though even that is disappointing
Still, I regret nothing
But perhaps that too will change in time
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Endymion
I love each of your phases, faces
The way your beauty lights the pasture
And silvers that dark valley
By your distant magnetism
I wonder at your influence
Oh, that divine push and pull
Which sways even passive Okeanos
You pull my flock’s wool over my eyes,
Whisper away my waning consciousness
And abandon me to my own blissful ideations
Which bay as Lycaon’s sons under a full moon
Do you want me to dream of you forever?
Would you be so cruel?
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Eurydice, Again
Deceiving death
And by death deceived
She haunts me, melodically
Alive in every lyric and tune
As I sing on our way to the threshold
Why must I keep looking back?
Unwittingly, I lose myself in memory
Reveries labyrinthian and alluring;
Infinite pathways that unfold,
Of which none lead forward
How does one move on
From a love that may still live?
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Lament for Clio
The poet stands before the muse
Defeated by forces predating him;
Those cursed hands that set the stage
Far before he had even arrived
A man, he thought,
Now that he could face,
But how could he compete with the past?
He gasps for his words,
Choking on each moment
That had conspired against him.
And yet he feels strong, perennial
Finally, he apologizes
For his only mistake;
That of being too late
Clio weeps, she is torn between
Present perfect and future conditional,
The limitations of choice itself
Where peace and promise
Diverge and converge endlessly
Her eyes are clouded
By the dew of a mourning
Which has not yet come, says
“How does one fight history?”
The poet holds his breath,
Takes respite in pauses, not endings,
says, “One grain of sand at a time.”
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The Zodiac and the Thief
In an attempt to orient himself
The youth reaches above
With shaky, greedy hands
And pilfers the zodiac from its perch
You hoarder of time, you thief
You steal moments from yourself
Only for them to be stolen back again
Now he is unbound, directionless
Lost in his apathy and atrophy
He has shirked necessity, and in doing so
Has become further entangled in its net
Inevitably, he appears again
Before his entrapped, frozen self
To steal from his past
And appease his present;
To squander his present
And deny himself of his future
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Isthmus of Corinth
Here I lie, wasting away
Within prophecy and rot
Foreseeing my own decay
And the fallout of my undoing
And there you stand, beneath
The not yet crushing weight
Staring at the coming end
Rooted by anger and loss
And fear and righteousness
We are both powerless
To change our natures
You simply can't let go
And I can no longer hold on
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Mirror Image
I love you
Echo repeats
The phrase which used to flow easily
And escape that world of reflection
I cannot hear it
My eyes turn inward
I see him, but can’t grasp him
His hands, my hands
Reaching out in the darkness of self
Oh, how cowardly it is
To justify sadness with beauty
Dull the pain with poetry and song
Obsess over the phantom in my head
How desire and repulsion
Are pumped by the very same heart
I love myself but I do not love myself
Accept what is and demand what isn’t
Perhaps I will die
Kneeling by this pond
Only to leave behind a flower;
Content, simple, gazing outwards
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Ananke’s Net
Necessity is the boulder
That will crush Sisyphus
At the end of eternity
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Cithaeron
“I will not let you waste away,”
He says to the disembodied voice
that speaks of love and sweetness
without letting herself be seen
“I will not let you waste away,”
She repeats to the bed of flowers,
the dreaming Narcissus that lay
in that grove of belonging
Oh darling Echo, I hold you
in the reflection of my own voice,
proclaiming my love for you
from the surface of that pond
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Recalling Oblivion
I know that you visited me
last night as I lay asleep
I remember the feeling
but not the causation
I remember the pauses
but not the conversation
I remember the intent
but not the words I swallowed
I remember reaching to hold you
but not the embrace that followed
Mnemosyne has cursed me
void Lethe has distressed me
Morpheus befell me
and Eros has obsessed me
Intangible, impervious to sight
forgetting all but recalling enough
Like a gale illumined by moonlight
the phantom outline of the girl I love
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Odyssey
I’ve only just arrived
and we’ve surrendered to time,
forfeiting our lives
to present moment a crime
Distance the traveler’s curse,
separation the test;
the lonesome heart bursts
through the wanderer’s chest
I’ll brave the loveless trips, oh
the future envelops me
You are my Athena, my Calypso,
my sweetest Penelope
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Astronomica
The world is halved
by mother Gaia's scar
two hemispheres, cleft
like lovers who may never be
Oh divine Ourania,
would you place my dear
in the starry vault of heaven?
And unerring Atlas,
may I hold my darling
if only for just a moment?
May I become an astrolabe,
and you, a beacon in the sky
that I may be the one that
catches your celestial body
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Golden Chariot
In Apollo’s dreams,
the Sun never sets
and my eyes see only you
with blinding, unblinking clarity
And I chase visions
of my beloved Daphne
in that ephemeral eternity
where the days are immortal
and the light is full of love
And how I long so
for the unending night;
that I may rest besides you
and welcome that decadent dark
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Haphḗ
His embrace, fleeting
sounding of suggestion,
like feathers and burning wax
Is he madly in love, or just arrogant?
His touch, misguided
sounding of innocence,
like ripples and lost reflections
Is he a fool, or does he know his fate?
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To Hell and Back
Dragged to Hades against my will
by way of snakebite and sorrow,
dark deception and dishonesty
I stand in the council of death
And there, pleading, begging
protected by the teardrops of gods
I ask him to return my lost love
And stoically he replies that
he cannot return what was never mine
and in place of my sweet nymph
an aberrant apparition arises
And I fled from that void
haunted by Eurydice’s true face
and the phantom of lovers aghast
No looking back now,
the time for that has passed
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