9.30.19

Standard

And this is where it starts,
an entry point somewhat
obstructed or dissembled.
I find in my darker moments
a craving for the quivering
goo of rationale.
This isn’t introspection.
I’m pointing this out for posterity
and because nothing points
towards resolution.
I’d prefer to be held
under a deeper sway,
but one a less obvious
shade of gray.
You’ve heard it before:
the revolution won’t be anesthetized.

-r. miller

9.27.19

Standard

Come through
to still the breathing liquid.
In the language that I lack,
there is no space for revelation.
Nevertheless, I feel so pretty!
Consternation cracks the city
with its palpable charms,
storms the fracture
and embeds itself within.
We lap the blood from our fingertips.
We imagine ourselves good
for the first time, only for the first time.
The stain of dusk spreads further
and deeper every day,
and perhaps soon,
will learn to move us to tears.

-r. miller

9.25.19

Standard

Free energy to those
who can withstand it.
Another problem

for the problematic
to sift through.
I thought, for once,

I knew a thing or two about love.
This spread me far apart.
Now, for the real menace of it all,

folding each and every personality
into its belly, riding shotgun
through the business end of blue.

The intermezzo contorts
the color something deeper.
Something to be afraid of.

Fingers go furious
as they dip into the data.
Next time, try the eyes.

-r. miller

9.13.19

Standard

The mouth of all this worry
is opening to receive all
us petty hucksters, hustlers,
and vagabonds of intellect.
Relief arrives in pretty parcels
tied with shifting-colored ribbons.
“With the lights out, it’s less dangerous”
and so much more enticing.
The icing on the cake tastes
of burnt hash and asphalt, and suddenly,
life seems that much sweeter.

-r. miller

Suddenly Aware I’ve Gotten Much Older

Standard

Pathogens of a unique order
position themselves in hangnail
formation along the body’s dark frontier.
Can you, through waxing ear,
hear their harried hymn?

Puts me in mind of a certain vicious whim
which once cradled me in its claws.
Clefts have formed in the sundry laws
supporting this declining structure.
This is as descriptive as I can be
under present conditions.

Maybe it’s a “paradigm shift,” after all.
Maybe my labored breathing
means more than I give it credit for.

-r. miller

9.6.19

Standard

After all intensive
putting forth the pulse
shattered seeking force
through bottom-leaking sequence

undo listlessness
and untoward boredom
scoring shock into the register
a different metric
than one is used to
and whose usage
cuts like rubber

deep into slumber
we drive our noblesse oblige
obliging smiles and all
with a ferocity left unhampered
in the finely burning air

-r. miller