Gathering the Scattered

      the ivy trussed
the men to knotted clouds

in the brooding blood
or in the rapid course of hands
      across some undelivered impact:

the river claps its hands
the river draws back lips of liquid gray
      no one stares the bodies down, they sink,
and unprepared

      what they touched began
to sound out, yellow
the dripping noise of paint on sad houses
            in decline

and it is more than coincidence, you say,
      a confluence
or a dream of contact in the stumbling sky


About QuietMonolith

I was just a mild mannered young man living in Portland, OR, until one day....POOF! I turned into a crazy, nefarious, thieving, drug-crazed lunatic. I had lots of therapy and spent many months in hospitals and treatment facilities. Eventually, at the end of my rope, I decided to change everything. With the support of my family and friends, I have embarked on a quest to achieve optimum wellness. I am making radical changes in every part of my life, and in the way I approach the world in which I live. Follow my blog, The Wellness Quest, to experience what happens when a desperate addict takes hold of his destiny and devotes all his time and energy toward making a full recovery. I am also a writer and poet. Follow my blog, What We Left Behind in Crowded Rooms, to take a look at some of my recent poems.
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One Response to Gathering the Scattered

  1. Your words are so visceral! I love it!

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