Hope (Less Romantic)
it is the you in i
(and the i in you)
that moves me
writes word about thought
lips across breasts
clothing unnecessarily chosen
for souls to touch souls
lovemaking our way
into the realm of spirits
into the youth of night
into (un)known pleasures
and the weight of a new world
canvas of flesh
cliché of the moment:
our children are sleeping
deep within us
the slow, gradual tender-
ness of
JP
Talk of:
money
the slow season
consistent people
regulars
country clubs
fine dining
running of mouths
hoarse throats
punk rock
hardcore
cheap beer
cute girls
record labels
paying rent
poets and writers.
No Title
(Next stop:)
We write the articles
of clothing onto and off of
ourselves,
aiming, striving,
for the connection,
the click of compatible
technology;
the stars and black holes
attract those left
fluttering aimlessly
towards burning light
and lack
thereof;
cryptic abstractions,
remains viewed as artifacts,
the midday sustenance:
(where)
are we going?
———————————————————————-
PJ Carmichael is a writer, philosopher, dreamer, spiritualist, and angst-ridden existentialist from Wakefield, Massachusetts. He enjoys the exploration of the natural world and the documentation of the New England landscape. His favorite season is Autumn, and he edits the literary/arts zine High Tension.
