“There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” (W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM)

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Co-Poets pt. 2

...continuing the series on collaborative poetry we come to the piece I did with my brother Chad. My brother and I have done a number of collaborations in the past, some have worked out great others not so much. It is hard to pinpoint why. We always seem to have fun with it though, so we will continue to do them, at least I hope to. When doing this particular piece, it felt like we were in lock-step from the very beginning.
The piece follows below, enjoy...

I can't wait to remember
all the things I've forgotten
memories like fallen leaves litter
the forest floor, decaying
brittle underfoot, they break apart
the pieces scattered by the wind

the sweet damp smells fill
empty spaces, overwhelmed
by the rot of nostalgia
the canopy contains my screams
digging holes, bloody fingernails searching
for that place where roots drink

they probe deeper into the terrain
like the tendrils of my brain
moments bubbling up, I gulp hastily
leaving that sick feeling in the pit
of my gut, swallowed remembrances
a trace of bitterness remians

I sip slower to try to cleanse
the palate, muscles relax recognizing relics


  1. all of these pieces ended up feeling like being caught somewhere between a dream and a nightmare

  2. I especially like the sentiment and images in the second stanza.