Songs for Ghosts IV
With its feet sunk in the clouds,
I can feel the Qilin judging me.
My first teacher mourns
three years before tearing my work up, in front
of an audience. Nobody claps, a scent of sandlewood
fills the room.
All of me has been used, no stump or root
remains to show them I was there.
Songs for Ghosts V
I’ve built cemeteries on skyscrapers
using family albums and a history
of car crashes. I know if I fall I’ll be returned
to the scene of the crime.
I implicated myself.
Between the sirens,
I could discern wind chimes composing music
over untouched grass. I begged
to be impaled on earth-toned antlers.
I have no luck.
The streets glistened with dew-covered people.
Everybody had a map in their pocket,
they ran their fingers along the creases
and found distinctions in the dark.
I lost my co-ordinates years ago.
- I never loved this place -
by Aaron Kent - Twitter: @GodzillaKent - more info HERE