Revelations

Sometimes Late at Night by Mark A. Harrison

The forgotten shoulders
of February snow
settle into
the sun-starved earth,
mud seeping into crevices
carved by the relentless
ice, the Loki spirit
of early morning frost
that charms and dazzles
even as it kills;

This is the season
where old secrets
emerge from slowly
melting tombs,
people dancing sidestep
to avoid the de-
composed unknowns;

Better to focus
on the promised
return of solar warmth,
the miniature Death
Valleys forged by meltwater
Cascades, a flood
to wash away
the salt and silt,
the guilt by association;

We must all look
on our collective leavings
and sigh in righteous
consternation, at this
yearly ode to universal
apathy, and then forget
with every step
that ever it was ours.

– T.H.

Originally written 02.04.14, Edited 02.21.18

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If by Loving

Silhouette by Mark A. Harrison

If by loving, you mean
conspicuous consumption
of one another’s souls,
devouring each hour
yet hoarding minutes
like secret treasure,
deluding ourselves
that we can keep time
tucked away, safe
in the faulty vaults
of memory – and yet
nowhere is entropy
more apparent, more
glaringly obvious
than in that
which we think
we remember.

– T.H.
(02.13.14)

There’s a trick to painting water II

Thursday Gallery: Art by Mark A. Harrison

1. Light on Water

2. Undecided Flow

3. Untitled

4. Two Levels Below

5. Aquatic

6. Surrender

All gallery images © Mark A. Harrison.

There’s a trick to painting water I

I woke up drowning yesterday
–I’d gone to sleep the night before
turtle-like on the ocean floor–
Forty fathoms in, and still waiting;

Every day I breathe in oceans,
throw my arms wide
so the wind can catch me,
search for lost gods
in dime store baubles,
study reflections
in muddy puddles;

Every day I hear
symphonies written by ghosts
memories of strangers
dissolved in whispers:

I woke up drowning yesterday
and you were there
But did you push me in
or pull me out?

I sometimes think
if I could find
a way to tear these
old walls down
I might find what I’m looking for
in the rubble and the ruin

I woke up drowning yesterday,
and someone saved me;

It could have been you.

– T.H. (Feb. 1, 2018)

New poem built from the bones of 3 older poems: I woke up drowning / Sleeping underwater, Forty Fathoms, & There’s a trick to painting water