Just a Thought
For the warming comfort of snow,
to thaw that which has been left frigid,
to repress is to die,
refrain and move on,
this is life persisting,
death meanders on,
a salivating void of all emotion,
numb to escape,
place distance between what happened
and any attachment to it,
two contradictory planes of existence,
abandon “your” self, rid the vessel of “my” anything,
we own nothing,
we are nothing,
perfect daily progress only,
you are not the ups and downs,
you are the words not the apology,
you are forgiven.
Worn, blanketed, black magic,
warm, tangled and tussled.
Skim the brain,
deep dive the mechanical,
summer’s dead end, combustible.
Relief in form, bodies in the round,
low end, high treason,
the sand is time,
Bought, blue, something new, borrowed,
acts of valor, night caps, silver dollars.
Garlic cloves, horse mane, garbage picker,
last one, first on board,
tell me when we get there.
Kevin R. Farrell, Jr. is a New York based artist, poet, and educator whose work has been published in Burning House Press, Rumble Fish Quarterly, Adroit Journal, Terror House Magazine, Former People, Blakelight Magazine, Visitant Lit, Ink in Thirds Magazine, Indiana Voice Journal, Foxhole Magazine, Yo-NEWYORK!, BONED Stories, and Yes! Poetry. His work attempts to capture life from the vantage point of someone in the backseat of a stolen car running on fumes. His poems are a play on words in the form of political, satirical, surrealist, tongue-in-cheek rants that often border on stream of consciousness ramblings that are a last-ditch effort at taking it all in before we get taken out. For more information regarding Kevin’s work:
Cover art credit: Author’s.
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