THE HALLUCINATOR

The hallucinator sees
the contents of their mind

spread out before them,
like dusty old knickknacks

brought up from the basement
and strewn out in the front yard.

Their minds become a
kaleidoscope.

They look at their life
and see themselves
as a miracle.

An accidental poem by this article in The Atlantic.

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Volunteer Park Conservatory, Seattle

PHILADELPHIA, NAKED.

It is a wonder that my eyes
may see the city from such
varied perches, day to day:

By bus: elevated so that
I may gaze indulgently
into wet, dirt-caked
cavities of construction sites
hidden when I am

By bike: so that the flawed
contours of road, frenzied
traffic patterns spill soft
city breath on my cheeks,
ever still when I am

By foot: so that I may watch,
observe, stop at the apex of the
Walnut Street Bridge and see
(for the first time) clumps of
bright clothing, remnants
of bicycles, water bottles
sticking to the concrete
embankment below.

 

THE ARGUMENT

But the argument
carries on, goes around
corners, crosses the
road, turns back on
itself, and

eventually ends up
somewhere neither
of us has ever been
before–at least,

not sober, and not
during daylight hours.

An accidental poem by Nick Hornby via High Fidelity. 

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Spokane, WA

AUTOS IN THE NIGHT

Having skittered clear
across the wet intersection,
one regretful person
(clutched in terror)
was the reason for
standstill traffic
tonight

Finally, it was my
turn to rubberneck,
when this ominous,
arresting image
caught me instead:

a procession of
autos, snaked miles
into the distance–

a thousand   p  u  f   f   s  s
of exhaust breath
hanging still
in the night

POULSBO

Come morning, we slid
tippy kayaks into the Sound,
Poulsbo-bound for breakfast

Fearless oars separated
families of jellyfish, we mean
no harm, just passing through

And geoducks – what strange
creations, sand-fountains that
could dance to Mozart

Comfort of land, sun-drenched
streets of shops, families,
Norwegian oddities, pastries
the size of frisbees.

Poulsbo, WA

Poulsbo, WA