Poems and Prose #49 - Bowed

I knelt down,
to pray inside my mind,
as the crowds passed by,
some silent,
some muttering,
some cackling with disdain,
and I knew then
what it was to be a human,
frail and alone.

When I stood up,
I brushed
the insect carcasses
off my knees
and resumed my travels,
the sun's gleam
now seeming more obtrusive.

Poems and Prose #48 - Brushed

Gasps escape,
the suddenly-still crowd
now encircling
a widening,
dark-red pool.

The street signs
jostle minutely
in the crisp
autumn wind,
the words
printed thereon
seeming less and less
descriptive
by the second.

Poems and Prose #47 - Above

Gliding over all,
the sorcerer waves his wand
and manifests a glowing ball,

standing ninety-nine feet tall,
casting a diffuse shadow
over all the things that crawl,

darkening the malls
and the stores and the pubs
and the miles and miles of concrete
that pave the vast, suburban hall,

his breath sternly stalled,
as he strokes his flailing beard
while hard sheets of raindrops fall,

his eyes like a reclining doll's,
seeing everything an eye could see
and a few things in between,
the sole soundtrack a cacophany
of disparate, soft crows' caws.

Poems and Prose #46 - Quiver

There, ahead,
I see the gleaming pool,
the cool,
refreshing dish of water
carved into
the desert moundside.

I lick my blistered lip
and imagine myself
taking a tiny sip,
then a gulp,
then a guzzle,
then drowning
as my lungs fill
with liquid.

Now I turn to walk
the other way,
for I know
no drop of water
could match the
delectability
of those I've just
virtually imbibed,
and I'm in no mood
for disappointment.

Poems and Prose #45 - Antidote

The flask sweats
as it sits, motionless,
on my desk,
the air's moisture
draping its skin
as its contents
grow in warmth.

I reach toward it,
then pause,
the room's silence
serving as a
makeshift,
minimalist soundtrack.

The fleeting silence breaks,
and the mumbling
and the clatter
and the creaky creaks
of the world beyond
the room's walls
increases in volume
once again,
and I extend my arm
further.