WORLD MAP 1
Head in the direction of
water and search among
the shells that are unbroken.
When you find five, turn
north and head over the
beach until you reach the
large pine. There, speak
your spell with a loud
voice into blowing wind.
Watch for the glimmering.
When you see it, move towards
it and dig rooted at its spot
for your poem.
BEWILDER
i thought i understood the words we shuffle between us, the movement up the chain, the progress of history from place to place, the mind’s growth, but now i pull at threads in carpet and watch them peel away one by one while waiting for them to connect in a run. living, dead, expressed, not, what does it matter? lost in the complex wiring or the nothing, i empty the need to be and start to question the limbs reaching at night above me, the leaves’ pigments dying in ones, the doors on hinges closed. i heard the call to the wild and found only confusion. i thank you for lying to me so long.
This blog was the successor to the poetry section of the now no longer existing The Argotist Online. This blog is also no longer active, and is now just an archive.
Poem by Stephen Bett
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