They’re probably black as tar

They’re probably black as tar,

Or brown now, an autumn brown

With a lump the size of a fist

Or a few the size of grapes

Either way I don’t want to see them,

Let them stay where they are,

Inside me and surprise me

At the finale when I lose breath,

When I can’t catch up, it tapers off,

I fall to the floor and gasp and gurgle,

Someone finds me but it is too late,

I’m gone now, just know

That the lungs always wanted a good laugh.

A human being-question chasing after both God and nothingness. The internet is a disaster, but our starlessness might teach us something. I welcome our constant experimenting with ourselves with open arms, for ultimately they are attempts of life at living and growing in life. My dwelling is in Key West, while the dwellings of my loves are Indiana, New Mexico, Texas, Massachusetts and Arizona. These spaces are nothing. Love abides and love embraces. View all posts by Richard Q