I can't control it sometimes

To be fair, my other site does promise poetry in the sub-header, so actually writing some was inevitable.  Here is an excerpt from Omphaloskeptical Odyssey:


So they would draw on their charts
and cut out some hearts
and offer them up the sky.

Because someone once said
in this book they once read
that it is water, wind, fire and stone
that turns a body/mind into some bones.

"Maybe if you proffer
some gore in a coffer
the elements will leave you alone."

So hearts they uplifted
and entrails they gifted
but never their friends or their own.

****

If you want to read more of that kind of existential silliness, please follow the link.  Just something I wrote when I was working through an existential crisis, thought it might be fun to share.  Those of you without existential concerns or good taste in poetry will probably not find it as interesting.