30 May




and there was a dusk

(as must be),

then spattered dust

(as always was),

then a crack of an empty minute

resounding like a frenzied horsewhip in Nietzsche’s mind

or like a pointless pauperized vendetta

carmine humidity along cement

surrounded by red brick tenements

facing one another adversarially

and then all was silent


as the night submitted

to the dreams of frightened children

quivering through the intractable unknown

like a young bride sold to cheap wealth

to mask the poverty of kinfolk

and then the lampposts came alight

blinking like a fool

who’ll never see tomorrow

because today lasts too long

and the light flows troubled

like a sonnet

for a first love

whoever she may be

sought and searching

tanned shoulders and mild insomnia

an elephant graveyard

where only memory exists

unburdening itself

as the sun beats down

in heavy, arced layers


waiting for the heavy footsteps

of time to pass  


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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