THREE POEMS by SHINE BALLARD

BLUR


passengered on a bus,

eyes focused on—

a staring, attempty gaze—

nothing in particular,


i’m simply glimpsing a world

too leaving to be languid—

buildings—façades—sidewalksandalleys—

long exposed livestrailing, striae of being


all those people slurring,

treadmilling, whose destination

reels in reverse—zoetroped,

thoseanthropes,


to my stare, slide—

oblivious to the vacuous suck

which inhales them wholly—

an insatiable cycle


of every place just viewed beyond

 

AJAR


the doorjamb

of the room formed

open, receiving—

a

jar


filled overflowing

with the viscid variegated jelly

of existence, experience

internal mutterings, muddled

heres & theres,

dones & willdos :

the masceratedmelange of


—must


no one enters the room :

indifferent

we are,

all of us,


predilected


no one enters the room : un

armed

we are,

all of us,

loaded

none innocent

we are,

all of us,

guilty of


beingliving

 

BURNBLIND


That warmth

at the nape

is not the torrid breath

of un amoureux

rather the consequence

of a selflitflame.

You've become spellbound,

besotted by

your flickeringfailing

and have become absorbed

by its fumes.

Indulge! indulge!

you chauvinistwretch—

for soon you will

be deluged.

 

Shine Ballard, superblyoperose, currently creates and resides on this plane(t). @xShine14