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Brass Orchids
Kitty Hawk
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...to wound this autumnal city
So howled out for it to name me
I am here because it called me
Prism, Mirror, Lens
Have I lost myself and if so when and where?
I feel that somehow I must know
But I don't even know who the fuck I am
Days dragging
Spent drinking
Lost in echoes
And distortions
If I lost my name
Does that set me free?
I'm tied to this landscape
Of saprophytic qualities
The streets still have their names
But the city is rearranged
In a constant flux
And so it changes us
Dragging
Drinking
Echoes
Distortions
To wander this cerebral city
Caught between these thoughts so gritty
My name lost, now reduced to kiddy
House of Ax
Have I lost myself and if so when and where
I feel that somehow I must know
But I don't even know who the fuck I am
Refracting
Words written
When ashes
Grey the grass
The thought 'I am going to die'
Yet blood still beats in my ears
Is this what thinking feels like?
Is this what it means to be alive?
Does this mean my mind is gone?
But what does that even mean?
Is my mental illness real?
Or just an illusion? You tell me
Refracting
Written
Echoes
And distortions
I have come to wound
Have I? Have I?
Am I wounded?
Am I? Am I?
Healed or hurt
Is it the same?
I'm lingering in
Ruins of confusion
Dragging
Drinking
Echoes
Distortions
Do these notebook poems reveal truth
About who I just might be?
So howled out for the world to give me a name
A ghosted smile
Lit by two moons
While a red sun
Burns this city
Forever adjustable
Therefore unlearnable
I'm still lingering, but
I have come
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