Category Archives: Poetry

a lifetime dodging chains and crumbling chairs— with you I would have sat there

Open, like a Pandora’s Box Radiant, like a dying star You know where you are

The Five of Cups, a figure cries. Three cups have spilled; winning dies. If I have to mostly lose, spilling all is what I choose.

Your En Passant has exposed you now (sentimental weakness on your part) to rather material disadvantage. My Queen, Lady Macbeth burning a fire in her heart, has bested your King. Remnants stranded long after the end like the Colosseum, the Acropolis—it’s pleasant to bask in the rays of a former glory.

Too contrary to find light in a common hue, days pass into ages that slip from my prime, nihil sub sole novum: can a dead language lessen the dread of this truth?