Philosopagus Seven 008 - 1) One bag on my shoulder, one held by the strings from my elbow, a potted tomato plant in hand. 2) I feel the weight. I use my ticket as a bookmark. Waiting for the rails to simmer. 3) The train platform leaving home seems sad. 4) Balancing on the line between what’s behind and what’s ahead. Alone I balance with my cumbersome baggage. 5) I look back and see your car pull away. To go back home. My home.Read more
Philosopagus Seven 007 - 1) I leave you now, to see you never again until the death of time. A journey I must take alone. 2) Though I am full of love, my hand drops yours. I am fearful of the unknown. I walk on. 3) You will think of me. I will not think of you. I will not miss you. I will extinguish our connection upon my first step. 4) You will be left alone, but not alone as I. I willRead more
Philosopagus Seven 006 - 1) The red garland. I always handed you the tape backward. Always got cold putting the candy canes outside. Asked math questions late at night. 2) The garland: dust. The candy canes: melted. The questions: unheard. Locked in the past. Memories no longer shared. 3) My mind, alone, naked. Only half without yours. Lost. Bisected and bleeding on display. 4) Time cannot heal a halved mind’s memories, only change them. Turn them into lies. 5) With time you are lost,Read more
Philosopagus Seven 005 - 1) I was already in bed when you got home from work that night. You used to tuck me in. Some nights I’d pretend to be asleep. 2) One night you waited silently at my bedside. I listened, pretending. Waiting to hear you leave. 3) I can’t remember why I pretended to be asleep. Prognosticating what’s to come years later. 4) I didn’t hear you. You must have left, not wanting to wake me. I slowly turn around in myRead more
Philosopagus Seven 004 - 1) “You abandoned me,” she says to her father. She must have forgotten. He sees the dark approach. 2) A shapeless voice from the dark is pleased with her perspective. “Yes,” says the dark, coiling around her waist. 3) She feels the pull, familiar. She knows that she is falling, but realizes too late. Her father watches, recognizing, extending his hand. 4) She recoils into the dark. It covers her shoulders, seducing her. She can see clearly in the dark.Read more
Philosopagus Seven 003 - 1) The wind walloped him. An invisible enemy, but he didn’t mind. The noise quieted his restless thoughts. 2) He looked out into the ocean, the same color as the unlit sky, blending into one another seamlessly. 3) Seamlessly. He searched for it. What exists within that invisible seam, between the ocean and the stars? The wind pushed him forward. 4) Not yet. He wasn’t ready yet. He held onto the rail of the peeling red bridge and looked out,Read more
Philosopagus Seven 002 - 1) A broken butterfly on the ground quivers in the wind. Its colors, once thick, dull. A hovering shadow reaches down with weightless fingers. 2) The wings: gossamer, shredded, discarded. Separated from their body, whimpering an inch away. The shadow: corpulent, a child. Laughing. 3) He holds the body, now flightless, grounded. The legs, protruding. No more. The antennae, alert, removed. Laughing. Years pass. Wings shred. 4) He holds the body. She struggles, silenced by words. Threats. She quivers onRead more
Philosopagus Seven 001 - 1) Christmas. The fog was too thick; the rain, loud. “Pull over,” she said. “Wait for it to clear.” 2) “We’re already on the highway. Almost there,” he said, patting the ring in his pocket. 3) He never listened. “I want to tell you something before we get there,” she said, hand on stomach. 4) The car jerked to the left, the windows shattered. Stop. 5) The other driver was fine. A cut. A bruise. The accident woke him up.Read more