No. 1

I don’t know what this means:

“A circular saw cuts things

In pieces, often in two.


A clawless cat bats at a mouse,

Not aware of its impotence,

A mouth gaping for air, for teeth,

For a bubble to burst to breathe.


There are ghosts.

We walk among them, aware yet not;

They think for us and we them,

Yet given the moment,

We wake up in a cellar,

Far from where headed.


The cat slinks along, joined by his kin.

These — one yours, one black as this night —

Envelop you, claim you as theirs.


Even the candles ask questions of tonight.

Burn, burn, they sing with doubt,

While a roulette table sparks in the air.


It will not be a clear night.”



~ by Benji on 8 October 2016.

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