arrangement

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.

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in

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.

oubliette

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.

ee cummings

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.

small minutes

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.

wallflower

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.