You told me you don’t exist
– are invisible –
that you don’t absorb and reflect light
but your words can do that
– stealth technology –
even if you are rendered camouflaged.
Who really exists, outside of permanence?
– a stamp in time –
Our graves are markers of memories
nobody shares with the grieving
– or the deceased –
and in time we all give back,
reform our energy and scream for a dying sun.
– Aaron Kent
aaron, this is all an illusion, the cars dancing in the rain
the cotton seats of the cinema, the sweet riverside sunset,
van gogh and gauguin eating oranges in the kitchen,
500 days of summer with monika, beethoven’s third symphony
i write to find out how i feel or i write to rub my feelings out.
i close my eyes, lie back and let the sunlight dry my hair,
the night bird sings, a dark hand rises, the world spins
from an axis on fifth avenue. i guess when you say ‘reform our energy’
you mean one day we’ll leave for the small cities in the clouds,
eyes heavy with pennies, either way I hope to see you there,
rewind our minds and roast marshmallows in the dying sun.
– Charlie Baylis