there was a not so long ago, i
would never have believed in
touch-screens
to think! all of this was a living
once rememberthat when you’re
thumbing between jackets
trees is the eventuality we are
becoming — – vegetable&natural
hard with words
&stories every untold will be
painted on the walls of a rediscovered
history understood
&librarieslibrarieslibraries
where)men with groomed&wild looks, sit
elbow to elbow
in the stacks with time
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
educated in echo chambers
the envy
of political café hats
speaking up-to-the-minute journalism factuals
you
whom i despise
for possessing energetic reserves&
functional world-interest
active on social platforms
quoting capitol affairs fr/a litany of names
seems like an anger unrequited
&how dare i characterize thin-skin
&rude to confuse attention w/ ignorance
from my irrelevant station raised
on superstitious magic
back-woods hollisticism a
prolific meat-eater encouraged to dream utopias
what have i but criticisms
and pocketfuls of foreign esoteric currency(?
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
no one told you to
care
about me, or worry if
am eating well
,or concern yourself
with
my various disabilities
you
said & did that
was enough
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
i begin always on paper
with pencil
then transcribed
my bookshelf is a museum of madness
older than X yrs
-wonder if any of it will be discovered
like Dickenson
after she passed, her family
packingup things
whole drawers full of notes lost
before somebody decided to read
them
all that we have now is what
survived
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
caught by the middle-distance
a mote(? a memory
does dust remember
thinking’s pained expression)a thought!
roaming the pejorative
– – – hunting sinewy context
all eyebrows&something define-ably extraneous
then the madness of jumping apropos
arrives; a poet
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
that we were ever here
is a wonder
time
has a way of being close
and far
i know the feeling
but,
i don’t think these shirts will fit
you
anymore
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
smiling inward thinking
of all definitions for romantic
or
what romantic means in a moment, so
let the mind wander
as it does
rmb’ring what that was when
was younger
-to an older more settled
tired self
funny
guess ill take sm’eat out the freezer
pull the good dishes down&
attempt to lazy spaghetti winebottle
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
thats when in comes the
darkness&teacandle
lit
– – this one is mineyours
might be different
, but
mine
has a low quiet flame close
to the floor in
–s
—h
—-a
—-d
—o
-w
circle all&
ceiling
above
,
somewhere in the middle between
floor and ceiling middle is
-me
seeing in the flicker feeling light
rise up nude legs&disappear eyes
what just was
forgotten doing remembered looking for
here trapping(> a mouth moves
& teeth&teeth
& —
,curl
in that low humming smile
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
Friday is
a too-short kiss
before a too-short sleep&the walls begin
all of my insides pushing through
pouring down
to puddle
hope
– – to drip on you
when
Sunday’s crown
is
up-sidedown(
&all the Jitterbig gives is legs
“&Me,
more me than ive been,
trying to push
my face back in
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
defoliate the furniture
ruffle all the linens&
under the legs of tables
featherout the webs
discover new old spiders
messyup the settled dust
busy as brooms, choking
old in the open room
particulates floating visible&let
the light fold in. “my, what a beautiful
mess we made”
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
went with all of the ancient felt
possibly to that space
waited, i
“you see,
they keep all them cardiologymachines
on a separate floor”
with the ideas of trees&of birds
&chairs quiet with magazines
shuffling people
actually old
only
young&stupid me in the Golf&Fishing digests
,a puzzle
to one elderly woman attached fixedly to
her wheelchair&(a sentence wordlessly shared
– – – – – – – – – – – – -over the subject of my untied shoelace
what happenstance my being there
aglets clicking loudly on the tile
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
you wanted me i think not
to panic
listening to your tone
how could, so calm
you(? or was it
for my sake
in spite of yourself
equally
alive
with anxious vibrations
surface deep
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
there is a less-energetic, more
exhausted, so&what comes of this
un-resounding clanging.or. that
bouncing light particles present the curvature
&objects mediate function through the neural&
the retinal
&,&
if a tree fell in a thought experiment, i
too am aware of a uselesness
in crying-out a
pain were mine the only ears to hear
make real(?
then though there are these&words
dignify experience
when read by a mind imagining time
so too then i exist as information preserved
in varied assembled forms
of forest
floor
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
inwhich identity is
required to match threatened idea of&
self an
effective consumer archetype caricature
mind imagines ambition as constant
or) not typical institution determined :
married employed voting taxpayer graduate
or) anomalous niche fringes :
part-time loner pedestrian drug-addict deliquent
in reality none of this is person
a dependable consistent
anchor
She makes of His wandering an island
teaches He to settle in Her nesting
&there are lawnmower leaf-rake shedShedSheds&
how many obligatory kindnesses, really(?
romantic tablesetting&converse
equitably
violences abate moments&tv trays wrinkle
softness a wither
ofwhich sensitive is
suspect&exhibit in awkward sexual judgement
combative regarding authority illfit to reason
cocksure, immortal
expediently dissolved
ultimately individual
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
an idea of ourselves
interpreted
by the reflections of other ideas
Poe could have said
consciousness creates reality, though not freely
it is guided by the realities
of other consciousnesses
which should mean that this whole thing
could be undone
if one could imagine a “here,” without
the idea of “here” inhabiting it
with all
that we “see”, or seem
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
&of the skyblue
purpled with coral, rainbow’d with fish
social/ in groups
to their elements each darting&hunting
a
lively pristine
forgotten
memories
of Cousteau’s conservationalist messages
bringing attention to
macro-polluting Earth’s birthplaces &t/
disappearing reef-dependant marine animals
we are become desert; hoard of bones
the Life that gathers here
is an evolution of scarcity
a picture of illness
struggling to frontier wasteland
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
come back to me
breathing mountains in
the skin of raindrops
&
those welcoming sunset-reds
let, from their peaks, the waters
and rivers, come
as grass beneath the toes
&bees,bees, fidgeting the busy flowers
let fall your hair about my face
as a mist, laboured
with the heavy scent of summer
rake my branches
&
empty to again be filled with
color&the sounds of loving
you
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
sweet, wet morning subtle haze
trussed up fussy from
the trashcan of sleep to stumble
and all the palenques of cockcrow
rooster’y metaphors barking
at upside-down night
colorset bleary&screwed
gristled in the creaky of ageing
carafe, spoon coffee habitues
&to stare, finally dumb from
the maddening continual reportage
drumskin of everyday beating
beating&ears go seeking softly pillows
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
silly in the trifles
gardening a tender skin
press into the open&
fumble out the words, saying
immaculate, precise
clever(
things)
speaking hands holding eyes
everything is kisses&
all the miles travelled, just
to be so many inches from
fewer&fewer answers to
questions about feeling
to
know(
)she knows
in all the many movements
arranging herself completely&
all the muscles possible
to pluck the silly grown
pulled upon the doors
that open with a secret
,only,
she
gives him
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
with me
at a peace
come walking, wait
the Slow Sun dips
below a horizon
imagined
as
the blued-colors flood
your
rising skin
let
it seem as all it
has ever
seemed
to be
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
idea-saturated economies
overwhelmed internal mechanism
capricious emotional response
i think i’m ready
to disappear
seriously dreaming
where was i going
to be
in all of this(?
too much
&battling that wagered statement
:a “giving up”
knowing i will rise again to kill
the despot, feed him&
twart the revolitionary.This
is My tail-chasing circle
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
by whichever avenues
met&
in that expense,extravagant
;a compromise
went not a frugal reason
lifted beyond the means of reality
by a romance felt
&now all are as strangers
to that singular
,interior space
asking that poor of poor
might charity, well
take this lozenge
what ill it will heal
beggar
& be bothersome about its
meaning
“is it not given freely’?(
…)what difference actual generosity
“were you not taken by need,
so asked”)?
it is no filthier now
than we are takers
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
depending on need
the wilderness
moves
permitting such geometries
as our
immalleable right-angle
approach
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
in defense of misfortune
argue obvious
foundations of sand
do this; make ready
the sacrifice
&defend
-there will be nothing
spoken of victory in
either event
a gainless memorial
of choice holding a doorway
© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.
the worst of it
is the going, after
&a transplant
retain’d memories with
of
left-behind limbs
testament to struggle
find me now this vial!
slender trapping
to dispel
&
be otherwise dispossessed
externality
not withering, will be
or a fading such
&
lengthening of night
no.
it will be we”
sat in the drum
upbraiding racket
caught by the cookie-jar
insane-ly
&
irrelevant
going before
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
a piece of it gets inside
&You are a believer
making gestures for sentiments
following collision
)tender parts heal
as well as intentions, yet
“sometimes things happen for a reason(
&if
are altered, Not ended
what comes then of
that
person exchanged
what of collisions romantic
the same, non? there is wreckage
tendernesses
e n d i n g s
but this
is not tragic
it is
explained
everyone, become platonic fishermen! with
their descriptions
&
cynical. you will find it
where you left it waiting
for
a
decision
who, what
are, is a possession does
not need to belong, it is
&
as its nature; a cage
to a finale
commensurate ash hoped
to be more than measurable distinction
somehow
just a bit of the Great Wisdom
ours
&
ours
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
had we not our metaphors
so mortared
fast as bricks
&wall
end-to-end
w/this: symbol’d opression
such expense!
Oh, that it had cost us
a long run
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
save it(…)Summer’s
gone
&baked as bread sweet-
fresh
while able hands a ravening
fill jars with
earth
you’ll want a little
for your tooth
when
time walking-backwards
catches
those
long ears
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
let us of(then)
-the touching ;speak
i
would name the tips
&reaching want a curiosity
O, nothing is unknown
that is
anticipated
to name(then)what
predatorial advances(?
a daring to creep innocent
per-chances,
speak one “yes,
-one yes.remove&awkwardly
into a different pleasure
grip
for all what torture kept
had eaten out the heart
of it
&
cease
rythm slows to stealing
each from each
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
when there are nomore
tomorrow’s
&every available lie has been
let
,like so many balloons(
a d r i f t & )
neighbourhoods&neighbourhoodsbetween
a you, a me there
forgetting faces
it will come
that dreamed of day when
all collisions
have of sacrifice a little breathing
wish”
i would say, “wishing has (we knew
the dangers of that place
had hooks
been cast
still
into that torment go and grew
for a somewhere Sun
that
never sets
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
let’s
with nothing
start
thinning-out, or
spreading
apart
there within a(vaporous
,perhaps,
skin
(?
one ghostly left-behind
of a
living
start
with nothing,
let’s
&grow&grow
as birth plus(+)time suggests
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
whether the micro(macro)/multi -possibles
exist
with all of whatever is or will be
–
every event contained
however beautiful to imagine
that we
can be in no other place
then where we are
rather that we have been
&always
waiting
to arrive.hands,held,sidebyside
backs to the future
watching
with patience
our struggling past
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
it has(as of last-night
uncountable millions of flakes)begun
to&blanket the everything
with
a wet mess this
first weeks of motorists misunderstanding
canadian winter
the change is actual
not metaphorical, there is science
in the slowed arrangement of molecules
;hexagonal crystals
it is happening even now(
hear sirens wailing over caution tape
can you?)
September is a tease
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
all of that existence, swollen sure&
gone
a balloon’s popping
heaven and the heart feels
light
for all what swimming did
on the edges feather lifted
)’s
air and the kissings
her
said”all that’s gold is green
when the new is newing
&
true
spare us absence,he said
there&here”
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
the hours when shadow sets its keening
&setting bends the redding
lowering
light
let come heavy-headed necks of flowers
nodding a steady blaining,inward
eyes
crushed petals
welcome noxious slumber
a stranger into the midden
of each inter-
solitarium
to calibrate the machinery of
time
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
with a swiftness&
a movement
cast
aside the vessel, breathe
in-
to
form. liquid interior/”the,”
is
it-self a closenessofSound
full
in the ears
expirating lung
controlled slow
&
contemplative meditation
candle doused to be relit
with
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
cannot force the instrument, i
to my will -there is
an agitator must event the process)this
happens, can and does
to the words then&arranging
with purpose
a calligraphy
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
try
let fear guide
each moment
this despicable hunger patiently
waits
mine
eventually
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
begin(find
what
comes even if poor
decisions met
there is always
a smaller stage
)
tomorrow
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
i thought about trifling some
romantical flippancy -a moment ripe
when gentler tones
do not abide this brutal present-tense
what a fist takes of touch
differently(the anxiety of being lost
or silenced by
that frenzying need to be first, be
it is not
an evening slow
when summer simmers low,and the clouds abide
a wide and starlit sky
the insects all
bring forth the firefly
)though, that is close
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
the thing is
we
will keep doing
this
– trying to get closercloser
to our heart’s desire
allthewhile
passively absorbing the dismemberings
of
other prophets
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
what if(? -you)assured that i
knew for me what was&what wasn’t
that this
methodology/reasoning 4moi)made sense
wld yu
let me alone?discover
if was right, i
trying constantly to get in
aren’t you
problems with locked doors
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
it(has)been since Mar 1st/10
&i will nvr4get
the countryside
tht
Old House
(probably condemned now
the ghosts that i had
met there
heart+mind open beneath an
in-pouring night
it’s funny – now
surrounded by so many
yet
feeling alone in a full
room
the dense ruckus ofwhich makes
a silence
ofitsown
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
out in to it all
thinly float
see for yourself,
words
spelled on a dream
‘s shore
“let it go
a lie is all you keep
this, and this¬hing
follow me
soon the common-kind
will you endure
le sacre du
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
and so he walked the streets
falling in love with the people
that he met
this is a remembering self
a passionate tolerance
being shaped by and shaping
consider any witness to experience
perhaps it was the flower in her hair
made ironic
by
a tendency toward nudity
and so he mused
a so-delicately described admiration
masking
the horror beneath
where the audience finds
a truth about what is imagined
there are no secrets
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
gird thyself&wade
the hallow places, look
they come(!
’tis the morning light they drink
in a fellowship of rafters
stumblebum
to the evening sow the downs
lay what last
fitly sleep
&dream the seraphim made them weep
His ab is a gold rib
and the lice
are licking faith
“oh kill,
oh kill all mercies for their sake”
were there, were are
now
&thusly swore there from
there will always be
a sword
to fall upon
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
somewhere in MeSpace,I
am a fumbling yarnball
trying
truly
or,
telling self such stories
convincing a
oh, there are dependencies
towhich i can’t relate
herenow noose-tying.right?)
but a surrendering
more rewarding more
difficult
to fall inside
let go. grab hold
once again
pain
is an effort of living. i tell
theseselves, or
emotions are the effort of pain
keep simple what is
&breathebreathe.breathe
either changes not the gossamer
of budding flowers
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
walls vibrate with the rhythm
of a wave
eating a constant shore
stripped of the memory of
trees )the in-blown things attract
a fringework of windshape
here:no green snaps&shoots
of idea – only a
percussive drumskin of sky ceiling
echo
manymouthed sounds of shape
&
terrible
terrible
) )people-like things
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
&so you come in
flourishing gestures as your
familiar impressions retreat
to an internal architecture while
on the surface !)alive
with irritated projections
looking but finding only glimpses, i
respond inspiring calm
as is why you came with your disguises
that i(practicing love), disarm
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
what if i differently did today
taking serenity
learned from avatars&
found actually
a blueskySelf out
would the whims have of it(?
a “me, in the Greengreen
playing shoes
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
wreckage is stories
:a collection of&
mangled into unfinished
snips
arranged,shattered reattached
now mass unrecognizable
from origin
the sore edges sting
forever
forever until
a compression gooily lumps the former
to a new digestible
by whichever can adopt
absorb
re-purpose
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
consider this space
an
indecision, tbd
there may be ugliness,beauty,
irrationalromanticOdes
,
a sympathetic aperture of a window
intowhich and out of
are peering
blindnesses
seeking
familiarity
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
a crafty smile contours
hips, melty-smooth
thighs
sculpture érotique
yet allofthis(is)indelicate as fists
and as senseless
without
actual inhabited personality
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
a body is a failure&an
inability to resolve it
existence is feeling
corporeal
reality occurs somewhere
to an externalidentityself
we are perpetually losing
&re-acquiring
this
makes a complexity
of simplicity
:life;
nothing but inevitability
is liquid
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
every odyssey begins with
an idea of Self; golden’d in final aquisition
of that so-desired object
spurred by curiosity’s guile,
and rudderless whim, or bitten
by pangs of longing
,or either; adventure’s
thrust upon the unwilling, or contented
to a folly of mischief
in either event a prevailing thought
will emerge
that of home, or of glory
it is not God(or Gods)that reward
this tenacity
it is with tenebral persistence that we
shape dream out of failure
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
for any of this(these)to be
more
than just impermanence
onedesire must, above all others glow
more
brilliantly
That! the light by which we guide
our instrument
That! future to which we cast
our(near&wanting)-selves
for fantasy be.made.real
(more)
This! or less;that vessels girded
with semi-precious wishes, only
and minor victories of chance-value
-a lusterless trinket
),be
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
&by imagining each disaster
possible,each
changing detail
can we
trace an accuracy of steps
back to our present
fumbling navigations
keeping sacred our virtues,and silent
ward against the wildness
purest drop of remedy white
singular.magic
mute
before a cacophonous sea
of other droplets
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
she said”you arewhat you
are.” to a stunned, i
well
if this is true then every-
thing.every fought-for
refused for, insisted on(lengthened tooth&
&wordsexchangedinanger(instantly-grayed for
defending
thing, a:
forgettable transform
of clumsy origami, or
easily now so distant
looking upon
ignorant curls of dust
remembered differently&
by no one
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
seems a prize for all
the grooming
x’s & o’s.Her.
wants a vacancy occupied.i
.(impeccably intentioned) totter
at the plummet
hamstrung by antiquated(possibly)not
-ions
whether ventured or not nothing is
something
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
eclipsed by the consuming
waters
the once proud seafarer submits
to eternal
inevitability
endowed
by the hands that made her
with every enchantment, and superstition
in foreknowing the navigable mysterious
ahead and on all sides
by the belief in her radiance, guided
and fell
fodder for invaders
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
quiet is all are all(if
exclude the murmuring stomach
‘s)& a twisting of bodies
anticipatory, eagerly
the slack-jawed gathering hush
for a parade of enzymes
a chattering resumes
differently
saluting the soul
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
seizing upon hunted
delighting in the(e
devoured
belief
in a selfprovidence
and
worse offenses
,sure
,a reality with this evidence
as foundation
breaking surface gambol
forever
altering permissive
a guiltless suffering
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
is as i have suspected
:an interruption,a
course correction”
love- even when well-meant is
it would hurt
me
to see you (fumble&stumble about
so.much.so that i must
interject myself into your
logical spheres
tying unconnected ends together&
sweeping up unnecessaries
) )there)
all is arranged according to my
designimperfect
listen, beloved
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
where i find my mind
this morning wandering through the amble
of what’s to come
of moments that build a day
the narrative in these domes internal
peaking at decision
without plot
,or function
i’ll take down the old books
reread the winsome losesome waged betwixt
good and evil compromises
as it always has
when all the all
dead unions held a calvary line against
feeling
that my time has come and gone
but i will light a candle
say a prayer that need should still
exist
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
of exhaustible thought energy
self
ish
ly
even as we never think of our selves
as self “ish”
,or that we give without expecting transactional
return
which is a lie
the moment when natural growth was
inhibited by civilization’s prudence,
the simplicity of the animal kingdom
had been lost
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
…exigencies
,or perhaps the Great Procrastinator in
me shirks demand i have
difficulty relating to
what Webster’s defines as
“pressing need”
this is a hunger, i think
a situation calling for immediate action
routinely asleep
and dreaming better Unicorns
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
M,
across the prairie, snow is blowing
like a wave
wind beyond the cottager homes set
glowing
in their huddle
town, aglister with the busy-crunch of plod
a plume of whinnying engines
sky dusky velvet
chipper enforcement officers test benevolence
on ditch-bound potatoes
in tow truck paradise
an exhausted unemployment line waits
outside
mail carriers, late
for the weather
all of the grisly chatter imaginable
at FoodBank twenty-blocks in the wrong direction
carrying
offbrand vegetable tins
over a desolate bridge
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
because the essence of human existence
should be liquified in metaphor
that
Time’s immutable drum be deafened
song and story be
and language
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
do you remember when i
‘d call you up
&we’d talk for hours&the con
-versation w’ld be about nothing
specific
one
of us w’ld be folding laundry or
a familiar song w’ld play in the background
there
‘d be that reminiscing on a word
soundslike touching laughter
whom forinstance said
i told you how much i was moved
that you would bother to come
through that wilderness
with me
after
all”
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
a portion
of defensible balustrade still managing
to offer sanctuary
despite the crumble
portage, and parapet
from which a survey might be conducted
,a plan devised,
or safety assured
when used co-junctively with
l a s t
;hopelessness underpins the archic texture
of a lone citadel, gleamed in a fading light
enough still to contrast
a desolate scape
she, and her words betraying no desperation,
gestures toward the perceived
beacon conjured
this is the importance of things
this
is the power of words
i see what it is and the translation creates
communicatedimage
my response: a carefully constructed proposal that love
inhabits all,
hinges on the pivot
where i wait to intercept response
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
despite
attempts to hide it
she needs
almost presumably, beyond
recognizable flaws
to be seen -less than un-attainable
more than
simply human
;desired.
with even her detached appreciation
for what could be described as
imprisonment
within,
© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.
who had never for a balance
spoken(?
there we,
there was
begin
words fit neatly
for their functions(& a sentence
gathers
building to a point
should
all let fall&leaveslayclutter
stumble shoes
pieces of unfinished steps
begin “yes,
the hinges hold the door upon its frame
which hangs
this way
,and that
see”? a room beyond and rooms
connect to mutual
interactive steps.two pairs.go walking
there we,
there were
again.
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
the day was uneventful,
apart from its ordinariness -the droll
and drum, and etcetera being always there
of course
though as these things do briefly abate
without the procession of a curtain’s parting
the exciting thing of a moment has happened;
that tickled, goose-pimple shudder, that
is why we’re here.
this, and such for my telling it; She.
certainly
as all men have lived there has, had, and will be
songs purpled with desire
stories rich with those gems of the imagination
poems, women, moments
and the endless searching for words capable
of that singular
perfect description.
mine; as instantaneous as
a door opening -time there stilled
seemingly to a stop before all returned
to monotony’s ever-present spell.
it was a weightless curl of hair slipping
off her shoulder as she -half-turning
in a doorframe
stepped me by politely. i: a-blush,
or must have more than smiled
at such an accidental enchantment, as she
sidelong had shared a pickerel grin
under a direct
and slowly closing eye
the small seconds of a heartbeat,
and an eternity ascending
through varied imagined episodes of consensual gore
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
around, and around
wanderingwaiting for
dark that comes like a
closing door
there is a name
other than any spoken there
time will tell clicking&
spilling its lightlong wall
and descending stair
it comes in grasps
cold and catching
thinly fitting the weight of breath
all on a spun
and tumble scratching
for a scream
unbutton Night’s suffocating let
air in and
starry
the nauseating senses
circle repeats around
and around withoutrelief:
in the corner an addict chokes
on a tongue&a
fox chases one relentless tail
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
you always knew,didn’t-
we had said
it many times so ghostly
as cold winter mountains
shadows stretching to meet almost
and never quite songs
in echoes a deep forest calling
and listening
you
when first clouds parted and metaphors
stuck weightless like dandelion spores
and time stopped and snow fell
in a moment all
was auburn and chestnut
good
bye’s
knew always didn’t
this moment right here)this room
now
i’ve seen before
that’s how
whoever we were hurts more
to hold
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
power’s out
had been for uncountable
hours
impatiently waited
at the window for maintenance
persons
in their un-necessarily talkative
company insignia cover all’s
.nothing.
the other tenants
by various modes
have transported their bodies
to districts still
warmed
in electric hum
impassively, i deliberated
up, and down the barefoot halls
decided by eventuality
that i
might too attempt a local exploration
for a coffee-house
bowl of soup and a seat
to privately ignore Time’s
discouraged
progress
along my slippery way
i searched for houses alive with light
,and finding none
but phantom figures peering back
at me
from their quiet dwellings
did not raise my
spirits
at the top of a hill
where the road bends
i could see clearly
despite the snow that my destination
was unlit
,and employees were politely turning away
expressionless
customers
gainlessly then
i decided my return
seeing none but one man
walking an anemic
toy-breed dog dressed snugly
in a red scarf
the mis-matched pair implied that
dog belonged to wife
and that man was undesirably
doing
chores
evidenced further by
his impatient treatment of the animal
i observed
,and without judgement
imagined self
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
ah
to move mountains
watch as landscapes combine
form and crumble to
new happenings
for a ready, shaping
mind
there is a sadness
at the edge of pleasure
as what is natural is
gradually
replaced
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
alright i’ll show you
once again the trick
is to be mindful
of position respective to light
life
seemingly will move
as if commanded
then i watched as she
with an expression of delight
suggesting wondrous manifestation
moved the imagined
and i saw only
hands in silhouette
before
the canvas
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
what(be
-cause invited i sit
my thousand poems
cushioned neatly underneath
&converse
that not a madman here is
battling constant inhabitation
you
dreamily
exfoliate charms
in an obvious attempt at at-
tention
baiting a lengthy(albeit perfundant)
verbose
epic
ignored, politely stir my tea
no thanksyes please
the crust of bread is fine
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
have un-screwed the shelves my
emotional bric-a-brac now warms
the floor register
yes this
generic metaphor unmantled have,
i
grown to a -morphosed fly
from maggot. This is the way
of salt-cured wounds
fail
learn
,fail better
found a lipstick’d wineglass you
forgot to mention
yesterday
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
would we
as children, recognize
each other
did not then know what
for looking was, i
a reason?)in these
forests, in sweetsmelling
streams –
turning to footfalls
in spring frost, see
a dream for a thing different
than any other
grown
to its natural
,or in itself despairing
singular
beauty
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
prefer this become a
part
of someone else, i
of my own mind am
tired. wherecome an-
other exhausted by their own
find me
curious. never certain
in a moment, glimpses first
what light upon a manysided
prism fell
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
i
adore cemeteries though
seldom speak
of them outside of metaphors
or
trying to preserve the features
of her memory
in a country house
delicates on the laundryline
cat
licking songbird from its paws
belly sun warmed
in the grass
attic full of empty boxes stuffed
with forgetting, do you imagine
as i do
she humms to herself
a thing like a rhyme
remembered
barefoot
in the yard
between the clothespegs
there
in all the textures of
an instant
without fading
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
destroyed
when recreated waiting
hammock afternoons
no
bugnets catching
rainbows no storms, no
heavy
books&musty dust
i have in many
leafs
of paper pencil shavings
crumpled ideas
wrinkled elbows
history told
in desk topographies
staring
down
the horizon destroyed
waiting
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
hello happens with a fold
in space
i see myself in a future
minute
near enough for touching
to be held
by you, “Hello,”
and everything seems to still
a moment theorized by time
-travellers(our unity
has deleted past-possibles
,and created
new-probabilities)
romance,
in an instant twines its roots
around our bodies
the surrender and the resistance
is a force
mistaken for fate
if but to conclude:
an irrational reality has
within it actual consequence
then your two feet, and mine,
have stumbled
getting here (in that each stumble was)
an unseen fortune
waiting to present itself
as our steps finally
met
reliving the new, and wonderfully-new
is as human an event as anything
but all the clocks are ticking
time will arrive
with differential speed
the dreaming done it must be
decided (by every name including
relationship) where
going with this are we
now as two
with the world at a doorstep
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
there will be a panic
a mystery unresolved, pain
tugging at threads of the
unseen. a fear of going
beyond the border of return
there will be doors
of moments, windows of interaction
closing opening, or
the reverse is not a guarantee
you will be tested. the end
will event itself in an
obvious fashion. made clear when
time will allow a retrospective view.
there will be an emptiness
to be filled, a wound
replaced. an addiction
in the form of an escape. there
will be lies, you will tell
them to
yourself
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
where the hard truth won’t
spare
even
as a known no glimmering in
the metaphorical dark can offer out
where, how
is this place? (a room
a box in the imagination (?)
light switch only clarifies the
cage
what to make of positivity
a painted door/ the idea
of an optional escape
from
the here and now
a reflection waiting for a face
un-
touched by the dust-trails of this
influence
another memory to hunt
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
entryway opens with a
bing
the anti-theft scanners
are always there
silent sentry. every
loophole has been accounted for
cameras monitor activity
the subjects stare. in defense
of personal space
some talk out loud
their private wars with
personal oppressors
and
are considered crazy
most do this in their heads
the cashier has an anxious way
of making conversation
is everybody traumatized?
forget
it
just
get what you can while it’s on sale
& try not to think too much
about
freedom
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
if i fall apart now
it is be
-cause the pieces
that i cut off
are Mine to choose
is
what i wanted to say
iswhat i told myself i’dsay
if
saw you again
isn’t true. can’t lie won’t
not even to spare this
or these
wish they were
yours
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
for a little bit of meat
pot boiled rice
a green-hearted vegetable
i would trade this un-fed body
dance, my white-bellied dance
naked as a moonbeam
for an encore of bread crust
recite fire-side incanto’s
of ancient magical property
for a moment let the dragons in my mind
spread their wings that yours
may give colour and receive them
for the prospect of a recognition
eyes and eyes locked, lost
in the portals between possibility
i would trade this self of mine
an idea kept, longer than needed
if one, a you, could see yours completely
hinge this starving tired
to the slow rising stomach of a breath
following shared dreams
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
remember always a some
thing wanted, I
what that was or changeschange)s
less now
older
but
then ask
what
am i doing in this room
?
still
excuses to personsuit&walk
my wear
streets of people imitating self
for a dreamer un-dreamed
see-
king an un-initiate to def
-lower
barter over cost the best
parts of anatomy my
most alluring
brain
i hope,pants
off.conversation terribly feel
s a streetfight like drag
-ged backalleyscared words.my
words
talking/acting never
come out, come across
shame to meet
an
awkward IDK
what is a man expected
to, why
i love have loved met love
can cry
remember connected being a
he&she
hair on pillow mused skin
perfumed delicate thin
-gs.sounds.
&eyes!
how cld i forget ?ever
staring back
at mine or trying not
to smile
she am now have not me
i do
again and want to
try
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
when found begins
freshthumb explored dis
-covered naval
all within alight with
eyes and probes sear
-ching New ¬hingNew&
dies
creator then decides
let inhabit whisper
-ing,ghosts(or make
again of tumblestuff
alive
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
i’m already over it itwas
day(s)ago,but
since you asked
this guy(this
that seems altogether charming,al
-together singular
he,he)is
a potato
agreeing on the wise
against inclination
not disagreeable
of a sort that
mind’s his own mind
to be liked,or thought like
-able he wants(wants&
that inthat should not
give trust
completely
to he(he)you
are an opponent
to be absorbed
&mimicked,
mannerism copied,tone&gesture&
philosophical persuasion
you(poor little you)will
see a likeminded, he(he) will
earn what he did not
work for
friend
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
the towers
a line of trees
yours and mine
decided removed built destroyed
and argued
the pieces move from out the
roots of mountains
sorting the collected
toppled stacks
of tumble
arrange a circle
fence rounding gardens
for love we did for
love&
grudged reprisals
over many a spell
and well-meant gesture moving
kissred mouths
purring thro
-ugh the windows
all we made we made
a priceless thing
t
h
i
s
the hurt trenched
beneath what we could not
unmake
time moved its million Suns
in one red moment
a brilliance shared
an eternity destroyed
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
from this distance
i find it hard to imagine
an ocean trampling across
the prairies
water destroying, drowning its way
through every thing
and there’s the fear that One can survive
only so many disasters
from here i sit, companied with empathy
wondering over your many
wounds
there was perfectness, this is not it
for you
my thoughts are a nest of concerns
would it move you to know, would you cry
and wish for me
has all that you have, or had
been finally taken for the last time?
for me
it is you
there are hells yet
for miles on all sides
this one here, so far away
is mine
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
with Other enabled infirms
on a long track
and labouring along on two feet
leaves a hobbled impression
of One’s self
though the company gathered
a homogeneous collection
of sticks and pinch-sacks
be at peace
with their ultimate tedium
it has not settled or struck
me yet still believing
there is a door
a landmark still withholding
best
kept secrets
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
carpet stains
a hallway full of doors
smells like police tape
and torture for
entertainment
get ready the internet is waiting
news report draws attention to violence
support the underdog victims
of society
with fetishist sex analogues
navigating bondage
“**** did what **** could to stay alive”
interviewed neighbours detail
a history of behaviour
arranging
sympathetic dialogue
consistent with the ephemera of the scene
organised material
“had *** ***** in common” between
bookends and bath towel superstition
disembodied souls meant to be
transformed
nevermind the limp unfettered laughter
remembered true as sunbeams intimately held
auburn and chestnut spoons
willingly
in a naked fire
backed up against the wall
challenged to respond for sport
react defend, entertain the ignoble
pushed to the point of attacking everything
animals
keep nothing sacred
been here before, be here again
it was always and never supposed to be like
this
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
there have always been moments
when the clouds break
always the feel of pavement
and temperamental skies
always a hopeful thought
for rainbows
,like legends passed down
from ancient days
always the pangs of loss
and joy in acquiring things anew
glass castles though they are
and wandering from heart to heart
only as real as transient desire
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
loved on the way excited to the space
that voice holds anxiously to a name playing
you and you and you spritely at the spoken
carries like a flicker in the skin
exposed what had sharpened tooth to bone
almost floating over the weatherwet pavements
when found forgotten how had feet kept step
to that dance of faces drained the morrow
sped increasing comfortable gestures fall
a curl upon the slowly letting in
finger traced a flower wreathing ribbon
shared between sounds of mouthed release
caution care fragility dares a telling
stories move fires in phantom hearths
ghostly settled dust a bittered flavour
curse laid on the bridge between two rooms
forgiven repeated forgiven a larger sphere
reveals a path away and to the all
kindle renewed want a breathing closer
to decorate cathedral’d rook and stone
streams a trickle hearts a beating river
real is truer than what touch can spell
without guile or need to secret knowledge
upon once a child remembered planting
seeds the armoured towers in age we wore
contempt would rust familiar to the loathe
retreat to self neglected by the bruise
to reinforce defending mutual interest
this is owed to eating more than given
dried the garden wildly overgrown
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
i have given you all
and now am nothing
it would have been a beautiful
ruin to watch
us dancing like ravens
above the onrushing ground
ribbons of each other
between our beaks
but
it doesn’t end like this
anger will take the place of desire
and desire a venom to spur
a different determination
if only we could let the other
go
let the unfinished stewer alone
snipe, and stumble in the
all-too familiar tombs
of that rotten inner-deep
we sought to climb from out, grasping
at angels
there is a circle, yes,
a mad circle
within that self preoccupied space
and the down ‘n hungry poison will bite
with teeth anew
anger will eat its way out
to the open air
because it has to
and to that end, i
am but a shallow replacement
© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.
poetry and stuff
New content every Sunday.
Poetry
Discovering a community of humanity and growth in a Loaded Pen.
Independent blog about literature, philosophy and society in words and images
Exploring creativity and beauty across different media. Passionately global.
(because technically they aren't written)
