reality 2.1
wrapped in shrouds of self
we’re everywhere
inescapable impenetrable
glued to worlds we see
but cannot touch
remaking reality
to be what we want it to be
pedalling furiously
to keep up
push ahead
break through
time and space
to a different
better (we think) place
than the one to which we’re chained
the consequence of choice
and circumstance
we think we’re connecting
the deeper we go
we’re not
we’re building brick by invisible brick
our own isolation booths
an insidious plague we embrace
rocketing us to a world
where we’ll never have to speak
as we march in lockstep
to alone
mooning around
i hate a moonless night
even if the sky is sprinkled
end to end with stars
the absence of moon
renders it rudderless
i need to see the controller
of the great salt tides
that bathe the earth
with timeless regularity
(that same salt water
run in our veins
tinged with scarlet only
upon shedding)
yes i need the moon
the great timeclock of life
to feel bound to that
which so depends upon it
no constellation can replace
the fearful majesty
of a shining silver moon
listening to silence
the airwaves silent
not a flicker or a blip
and that’s okay
words are not always necessary
some words must be saved
for the proper time
i have nothing to say that cannot wait
and some words must be bitten back
in the interest of self-preservation
knowing when to keep silent
is an art to be cultivated
silent and listen are twins rearranged
listening to silence can be instructive
dollar short
i’m nodding off in the rocker
every joule of energy sucked from
bone and mind
by a world too crowded too loud
too everything
trying to convince myself to pack it in
get some shuteye
this requires unfolding myself
from my sanctuary corner
climbing stairs
to the wretched narrow bed awaiting
winding sheets dusted with the colorless ash
of everything pawned and lost
cursing i prepare myself for another burial
from which i miraculously arise each morning
swindled of everything but heartbeat and breath
light fantastic
stripped down to
the bare essentials
honesty
passion
pearls
i will be waiting for you
to discover me
in the space
between night and day
where hope lives
balanced on
fragile heartstrings of desire
waiting to be plucked
by the hand
of the one meant to
play the tune
sing the song
and together we will dance
in perfect rhythm
About the Author:
RC deWinter’s poetry is anthologized, notably in Uno: A Poetry Anthology (Verian Thomas, 4/2002), New York City Haiku (NY Times, 2/2017), Cowboys & Cocktails: Poetry from the True Grit Saloon (Brick Street Poetry, 4/2019), Castabout Literature (Dantoin/Hilgart, 6/2019), Nature In The Now (Tiny Seed Press, 8/2019), in print in 2River, Adelaide Magazine, borrowed solace, Call Me [Brackets], Genre Urban Arts, Gravitas, Kansas City Voices, In Parentheses, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, Night Picnic Journal, parABnormal, Pink Panther Magazine, Prairie Schooner, Southword, and appears in numerous online literary journals.