As Nature Retakes the Crash Site
and glass glints
blood diamonds stuck in
sewn skeletal roots and
bloodied tips of the fingers
that will pour outward for a year,
unending under unto the soil
that roots the tree and holds the cold body.
These eyes deny; try to rationalize,
surmise and anesthetize the bomb,
the jagged potent pill that sits
above the throat but below
the tongue that cannot speak.
Poison to the touch,
it touches you.
beast and bane,
Big Bang and binding,
who stalks the bands and
bedrooms; lurking where one may
lay their heart hearth and homestead,
hungry and hardened, so I beseech
you: who on earth gave you the rite to steal?
Now this violent silence blankets both our
amps, a woven weighted black shroud, I
regret each missed note I can’t fix
O I’d sever my fingers
to strum with you again;
to right the wrongs then
fold in a bow,
though now you’re
loose ends swaying
like bouquets of pale
promises; too scattered
by the cleaving scythe to tie
again. Old hope drains in a grey
whirlpool; wide winding whirling wildly
on its way down the drain and out of reach.
Though, now, you must braid new knots and answers;
gather the wreckage at the solstice
as nature retakes the crash site,
for moonlight is just sunlight
by which you’ve grown to see.
Pour the malt cement,
mark the chapter,
close the book,
JACK H. GEHLHOFF
is a musician, painter, poet, and writer from Millbrook, New York. A sophomore in the UBTeach program, Jack hopes to someday earn a PhD in Modernist literature. He’s influenced most by James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, Leonard Cohen, and Jack Kerouac, and aims to carry the torch of experimental literature further into the 21st century.
Ten Years & One Day
I still recall the day ten years hit me. I was breaking my back and knees and ties to gain some sway when. I realized. Real, I realized. Reality, revealed. The slipping sliding slowly sideways, along away. The photos forgone for fairness, better backward. The twilight, timid, tiptoed traveled, cleanly complete. Revel, rebel, refute: recognize. Shudder, stomach, swallow: summarize. It took ten years and one day to realize that ten years went by. It took ten years and one day to realize that ten years went by.