Claudio Mufarrege's "The Arrow Shot"
You bind me
But your walls, your halls they cannot hold me
Body broken but the spirit
Rise, swimming in the deep
Recesses of the forgotten—
Mind: sole reality of prison
You forget, but this soul knows,
It reaches through your gray decay
And in the darkness spring forth wings
To flight, unknown, and I am nothing and no one
But here I am,
* Photography by Claudio Mufarrege, from her gorgeous photos and interview I conducted with her, as featured on One Stop Poetry.
Standing among the plastic wreaths he
searches desperately for life denied
but the rows stretch on into
foreboding; the synthetic
green grows into a maze,
amazing, and he sees the
clerk smiling at him–
no consolation in
Just a quick little thing, in honor of perhaps one of the gaudiest bits of automobile I’ve ever seen driving down the road. Sorry there’s no picture. I was driving down the road myself, you see. I could but marvel at the hideousness:
This tie-dyed madness
less car, more insanity
burning brain cells bright.
Such simple cloth can choke
like knotted noose–
half-windsor if you please–
atop the seamless folds,
a wet blanket beaten
by the daily in-voice–
if all the world is held within
these three most bitter walls,
beating a briefcase against the wall.
A significantly darker piece than what most of my recent work has been, just in time for the first One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Once you’ve had a look, check out One Shot Poetry, too–a bunch of great poets, looking to form a community and support one another. Enjoy!
Restless nightmares break,
From wretched slumber do I wake
To a world of endless night—
Thunderous choirs make me crouch in fright.
High above us wraiths now soar,
Men clasp their ears to deafen their roar.
Over hills and shattered streets,
The bands come marching to woeful beats.
A hundred thousand voices cry,
Then all the singers die.