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.

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