C.A. Martinez

Photo by Christina Deravedisian on Unsplash

The day begins to speak
at the cusp of the breaking glow

I cannot embody myself

There’s nothing left to rival,
no qualm bespoken or shelved.

When there’s nothing but fractured hope —
just dregs of some poor bastard’s dreams;
The tired ones, where his legs are stone
and his poor children…

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Photo by Damien Schnorhk on Unsplash

Rolling into the jagged horizon
ground shrinks into a pointed trance
and those mountains persist in all their grandeur
life has given back what was in rest

the sky seems giddy in deeper hues
and yet the crux of my soul drowns in blues
like varicose, opal, suffocation
that so erupts in dehiscent…

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