Flesh
A myriad of feathers
It falls for certainty
Or from one aspect
Of contrast may be expressed
Once again
To preserve the only claw
Feathers to mount which possess
Fashion for many are designed
In disgrace, illiteracy, and greed
In a belief
The vein involves virtue
As declared an analogy
A carcass lays with aspiration
Of faith with better endings
Unbothered for show
But with no empathy for the dead
If one falls from skies becomes lifeless
As delicate as it can be
One endorses the presence
Of a last breath
To inhale the disbelief
What is meant to be
Protests coincidences
To be a myth
Only in sin we plead for mercy
Perhaps it is too late
To hear melodies
That the morning sings
Here is my portfolio for those interested:
About the Creator
Moving through Molasses
Inspired by the 1919 Boston Molasses Flood Moving through the Ground feels like moving through molasses — not the kitchen kind, not the syrup on a spoon, but the kind that drowned a city in 1919. Thick. Relentless. Slow enough to watch, heavy enough to crush.
By Elisa Wontorcik5 days ago in Poets
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 6 days ago in Confessions
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