I lazily point towards the remains of the buildings. W/ every fibre, atom, sinew and ounce of meat…. I mea(n)t it, Lord god. I felt their fear and anger a(n)d I wanted to hurt them all in the name of some-other’s big nothing.
Meanwhile W bottles nebulas and plans to smuggle the ghost of T through customs. A wink wink at the security guards. A strange feeling passes through the buildings. Legs tired on the escalator. The milky coming of day.
That night I tried to write something about my thoughts but all that came out were hyper realistic sketches of marbles that I once collected on the banks of Goshen. I remember looking at the blue in the eye of the marble and thinking about the sky, in an innocent way devoid of pretense.
Self medicated I feel the loss of losing myself and you. I awkwardly draw a doodle in the margin. The squash takes about 40 minutes to cook in the oven. Did you get the herbs I asked for? What about the dill? Anyway, I’ll be home in half an hour. Love you too.
i sow the sky
Michael O’Brien is based in Glasgow, Scotland. His work has appeared in Shamrock Haiku, Bones, Failed Haiku, Modern Haiku, Blue and Yellow dog, et al. You can follow him on twitter @michaelobrien22