one day I will go to the woods
to seek what I cannot find
amidst the steel and concrete;
asphalt and emptiness.
between tree roots I will make my bed.
cover my slightness with fallen leaves and branches.
nothing will take notice of me;
it will be not cruel, but a kindness.
my flesh will grow grass
to sing along with the leaves
as the wind passes through them.
together we will tremble.
Do not mind
The mess,
The mindless
Carnage strewn
Across your vision
As carrion caught
And dragged
By vulture claws.
It will tend
To itself—
The sinews
Will stitch themselves
Back into place;
Tendons will again
Tighten on bones as vines;
The offal recomposes itself.
There will be little evidence
Of the incident.
Some stiff new skin
That shimmers in light;
A shattered face
And broken bonds.
Nothing here to see, unless
One pays the price of pity.
your eyes hold
forest secrets;
rich as coffee,
you taste like tea,
it is a wonder
they would behold me–
when the light
catches your eyes
all the stars
in heaven
would not be able
to match the gleam
from them;
they would weep
had they
hearts to feel.
this world
was not meant
for people
like me–
what a precious
thing it is
to belong;
to be a part
of something
so great,
so vast
as the world.
yet i do not–
there is no place
for me to lay my head,
and always a glass
parts me from
the greater whole.
so, i build walls
to make my own
space in this chaos.
i lay brick on brick
to delineate
where I belong.
[3/16/17]
clouds invade
the boundless
twists and turns
of this labyrinth
as the haze
consumes; devours
buildings and proves
the purpose of streetlights–
it creeps in slow
on the wings
of moths hungry
for the sun.
I am not a part of any of this.
It is better to be silent, and still.
I will be a stone
On the stream-bed;
The world
Cascades around
My dispassionate form.
I am inviolate—
To my cold eyes
The world falls dead;
A flood threatens
To bear me off to sea—
The roar deafens.
Silence permeates
The dark carapace
Of my mind.
Sticks and stone
May build a bridge
But the words
They say to me
To bring me back from these depths, no—
They may never reach me.
I must remain—
I must hold on
For as long
As I can.
This rope stretches out
Into a void
That drinks light
As I drink air.
Each fiber sinks
Its teeth into my nerves;
My entangled sinews
Are pulled upwards
Inch by inch,
Year by year
Closer
To an end
I cannot see—
The glare blinds me.
This is the light
For which I seek—
This is all that I have left,
Caught along the path
By the daily wax
And wane;
Here I must stay
Until my skin shatters
And my bones crack
Into sand
Once more;
Nothing left
Besides
The silent shore.
[5/6/11; edited 1/6/15 & 3/1/17]
he has forgotten
himself again,
as morning comes
devoid of memories.
grey sunlight
casts a pallor
over the silent
room, contained
of lost thoughts
that dissipate
with the approach
of another day.
eyelids will lift,
and he will
behold the
hollowness
of raw
dawn.
(1/28/17)
would it be so bad,
he asks himself
on another night
spent like a thousand
nights before,
to be alone,
to lock oneself away
from a world
full of cuts and bruises;
thorns and thistles–
all the hit and runs
of modern love,
they are meaningless
in the end; they amount
to nothing.
tonight, the stars
shine brilliantly
over a city
full of people
with hollow chests;
they sit low
in the sky like fruit–
you could almost
reach up
and grab them
to bring them down
to fill the hole
in your chest
where your heart
once was–
but all
you get
are shadows filled
with what was,
and is lost.
1/30/17
The Poetry of Ryan Kelton 