antony hitchin, 3 poems –


Stars long dead still I see their light
there is always something there to remind me
you don’t have to be sentient to be present
to speak
to touch me
for me to feel your influence
and you can claim all these memories
we can take the pictures turn them over with our fingers
but none of these rememberings are truly objective
and sympathy is stirring in me [and I don’t like it] and these reminiscences are swelling in my throat [and I don’t like it] and I want to cry because
there are no absolutes
and I’m gone

way past the point of no return.

December 1st
These have been long years [long years]
such long years [long, long years]
and I don’t want to reach Buddha mind
in nothing
nor to even lose suffering
still I find myself here exchanging mass for light

these have been long,
long years [long years]
but their length has lead to the quenching of their thirst

Dear Jane…
Shit sex
picket fence
keeping the company of objects
‘We’ – the unhappy notes of all my fucking poetry…

how we promised to make a bonfire of all these vanities

we failed, didn’t we?

Note: WordPress may have fucked up the format. That’s my bad not the writer’s….


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