7.2.18

Standard

Spun with swag, dearest tagalong,
your virtue comes to rest
upon the apex of its own devising.
You’re only now realizing the score,
to the chagrin of all whom you adore
with gentle lunacy. It’s time
for a more candid portrait.
What else can I impart to thee
that I haven’t already tried
without fear of success? True,
you like me less than you did a week ago,
and your shadow throws itself
against me with a degree of force
that I’d consider imprudent.
Yet I’ve not been made impotent
by your carelessness, and in fact,
am all the more invigorated.
This situation you’ve created
will permit but one of us
to leave intact.

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6.29.18

Standard

Late grown, the stupor,
blind shift from agreeable.
The viciousness to which we’re prone
has become more and more…
unmanageable.
My drive crushes yours
and all others who would oppose.
All over the instant…
A widening or something…
The appalling project of mythology
has finally been revealed.
And so have we.

-r. miller

6.27.18

Standard

A sure sign
that comeuppance is nigh –
fragments of a glass sky
strewn decisively in grass,
stray balls of lightning
readying to descend
upon the unsuspecting town
disfigured by sleep.
It runs deeper than one can imagine.
How readily all this happens,
how assured the elements are
in their disregard.
Days pass, and it’s harder
and harder to cope with.
Sometimes, it’s better
just to keep your head down
and collapse
within a thousand-yard stare.

-r. miller

6.20.18

Standard

Comforts upset…
These dizzying quarrels…
Glistening in new sun, reflective,
sweetness builds a boredom.
I’ll kill myself if that’s what it takes.
To get the letter off the ground.
To force rudely through… Headache matter
across the tile. One vague column
of vapor rising timidly toward…
Something pulls the worth,
work-a-day trial washed over,
new draft dictating. Polished seeds,
half-felt rejection. I will go
henceforth by hand
distributing packets of sleep
to every available neighbor.
Tell me again my war
isn’t worth the wager.

-r. miller