Writ April 14

Writ April 14,
Some time after Midnight

“Maybe there’s a place for me in this,
Maybe there’s a life I should not miss,”
I wash across these days
hit one by one
but all together
Was said, “Even if all my bones are broken,
I will drag myself back from the edge…”
Thought it was me,
Or at the very least embodied in text;
____________We will see.
As the days wash over me.
It is late. I should sleep.
I cannot now mass produce the art as I once did,
_____________________________________nor should I,

But it is calling me
I am compelled.
The eyes of my head
___Still swim as they once did
___As the days wash over me
I am compelled.
To you who are silent,
I feel compelled, though I know I am not.
It really is late.
At the very least I am compelled by myself.
The quiet grows loud.
It is dark and cold and
I am compelled,
As the days wash over me,
And I look back and see
Where am I supposed to be?
Old tendencies*

But more recently,
What can I make of this grand project,
Now abandoned so, collecting dust?
Needs some reworking; another touch but,
Is it too grand for me?
A step past knowledge and insensitivity.
Must the format change?
Can I even keep up,
Frustrating, grand, rearrange,
Research required, the work and pain.
So much has changed now,
The map is different
Internal landscapes shifted,
What can, after all this, remain?
Or will it instead collect dust.
Or will I open up again this novel tome
And hide away as I work,
Let liberally the pen roam?

Few more days, counting down,
The world will not stabilize for weeks and I
Will end as I started,
On The Harbor, in the dark,
Wondering about our silence,
And my compellation
And it is cold
And soon I will sleep
And spring is coming
And I will wake too late in the day,
But I will still do what I must,
Eventually.

Daniel Triumph.

By the time you read this, it will be one day after my final exam.
What next?

Losing to the Dog

Sometimes you notice the loss
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
A new absence not as easily noticed as
A new presence.

Walking my dog in the park,
The path was repaved
Sometimes you notice the loss
Of our favourite tree
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
Just a stump now, signs of rot inside
A new absence not as easily noticed as
The path was repaved
A new presence.

Returned home.
Was something stolen?
Sometimes you notice the loss,
Valuables are all still here, electronics too.
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
to the dog, who paws at his bowl. Out of food.
A new absence not as easily noticed as
An unhappy pet that led to it.
Sometimes you notice the loss

Sometimes you notice the loss
My dog was very dismayed.
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
To him that I won’t visit the store until tomorrow.
A new absence not as easily noticed as
What happened when I left to room for a moment.
A new presence.
My pet pooped on the floor.

Sometimes
it’s obvious
A new easily noticed
presence.

 

Daniel Triumph.

This was an exercise in repetition. it sort of ended in a dumb punchline, but I hope it was fun nonetheless.

My Construction

Soon to be consumed by this mechanization
The parts haphazardly built and set into the world,
They’ve wreaked their havoc and now they return
Combined, they come upon you
Cornered, spinning gears, sharp edges;
The edges that were carelessly released,
Carelessly return.
Caught; cornered, moving parts threaten lifelessly
To dig into the skin, to trespass your flesh
Impartial, objective, and dead
The world, cold, will continue as if nothing had happened.
The machine cannot be negotiated with.

But what was created was not a machine.
It approaches but,
could be pushed back, contended with.
The world is a place filled with people
And what you let loose has done damage
But as it falls back on me
Perhaps it will all be dismantled
When you wrestle against its strain
And turn away from what had been done.

Daniel Triumph.

Don’t read this 😛

“The Darkest Evening of the Year”

The darkest evening of the year,
Nothing has come yet,
And evening is here.
The darkest evening of the year.

Though I have stopped, the evening has not.
The sun, a giant mass, plummets slowly,
Moves lower and lower and lower.
Depriving the cold day of the little heat it sought.

Everything seems closer in the dim.
The woods span out around me,
They approach closer and closer and closer.
I allow my tired brain its whim.

My feet have not moved,
Though I feel I’ve gone into the woods.
It’s darker here, my eyes can’t adjust,
I’m seeing spots, my vision confused.

Nothing has come yet,
But I’m waiting for nothing.
And nothing is here so,
I should continue but I’m locked in the sunset.

I must leave, while I’m still awake.
Or give in, and let sun and sight leave me behind.
————————————my horse disagrees.
He gives his harness bells a shake

Daniel Triumph.

This piece was taken from a creative writing project I’m doing with my creative writing class. It’s kind of cool, so I’ll explain. (Also, I came up with the concept!)

First, we chose a poem with enough lines for the entire class. The poem used was Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”

Each person was given a pair of lines from that poem, and they had to write their own poem in between the lines. I got lines 8 and 9: “The darkest evening of the year.” and “He gives his harness bells a shake.” You can see those are my first and last lines.

There weren’t any other constraints except that it had to be fairly short.

What we as a class are working to do now is compile everyone’s piece into a little book. It’ll be kinda cool, because the last line of one person’s poem becomes the first line of the next one, and so on until the entire Frost poem has been covered. What this means is that the table of contents will read exactly like Robert Frost’s piece!

Lift off From Reality…

It is not always like that,
Though the higher I lift off from reality,
The further I inevitably fall.

The trough needn’t be so deep, the ditches so sloped, and hard to climb.
But,
If you crest too high, it gets difficult to see, so far out that
Even pulling yourself back down presents only
Floating, fabricated footholds
To tread water, or tread mill
Think you’ve moved but you’ve stayed still.
Acting as if there is no problem isn’t valid stance either,
Just another phantom pretending to be the ground.

A lot has changed now,
my skin has closed in around me.
But it’s better to be in my skin
Than to be abandoned outside it.
Or with mind sunken in.

Daniel Triumph.

Sorry it’s late, but here’s the Thursday post.

It’s sort of related to the New Years poem. It’s kind of weird.