your face is missing features
once again I call out to you
the foghorn is deep
eternity stretches onwards
your pocket is heavy with stones
sing again like hummingbird wing choir hum
strike deep into me eldritch tormentor
I dance towards you with bare feet
blind eyes open and seeing many
there is no River Styx
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).
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More stories from R.C. Taylor and writers in Poets and other communities.
Spiders
I have a spider in my shower. I have taken a shower in there three times despite this knowledge and it haunts me between each drop of water, each brush against the wall or showerhead. I do not know where it lurks. I saw it once and since then it has maintained a steady hidden location, to which my eyes only half-heartedly search.
By Logan Stanislaw5 days ago in Poets
Fair Exchange, No Robberies
Dark Memoirs - Index There are at least two kinds of people in the world: those who write this half-arsed kind of intro to a story that looks to separate the rare and the norm, and those who realise it's an overused framing device and don't.
By Paul Stewart6 days ago in Chapters
Comments (4)
“sing again like hummingbird wing choir hum”… oh my, this was just stunning. So many gorgeous concepts in here - divine work! ❤️
Oooo, this was so profound! Loved your poem!
Brilliant! 🩷
This is a deep and mysterious poem, RC. The imagery is both rich and stark with hints of both the macabre and hope. Your final line resonates strongly with me. I loved it!