a writer's blog


collateral tales

collateral tales

Huh, I barely remember this poem!

It just popped up in the process of reorganizing my documents after migrating to Mac. I’m a writer, not a poet, and I regard any poem that I topically or accidentally compose, and which is not intentionally satirical, is derivative of some poetic style or other by default. It creaks & grates, and it sounds like song lyrics but I at least remember that it wasn’t written for a song. But that’s all I can remember, and I have only the most vague idea about what it could possibly mean or be about.


Let’s meet where all them angels dwell
with money changing hands;
Where superstition haunts the haunted
ones with heart-shaped blanks.

Then walk along this disconnected
line to where it bends,
Toward the gentle reach where no one
shows up in the end.

Yet laughter-woven ghosts create
themselves with sudden skill
To weave sophisticated views
from April window sills.


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1 Response

  1. I tried really hard…it’s very intense and bit dark…may be just interesting to see what reactions it triggers