distinctly i recall pale lonely nights spent in silence staring through cracks between the blinds – lights dimmed listening to voices creep through the walls sealed off isolated surrounded by unacquainted nameless faces – haven’t spoken to another going on three days – doesn’t seem to bother me much – i take a seat at…
Author: Mitchell Chmielewski
Image of Fear
brittle bone rattles baring jagged edges jutting rudely beneath ill fitting flesh and pudding paunch – obscene and unseemly unsettling reflection pallid in a stained mirror – so familiar yet foreign gazing through sullen eyes – chalky complexion chill ‘neath warm skin – it scares me truly it does – creeps on nagging
Reaching the Limit
when you reach the moon will you then be satisfied or set your sights on more distant bodies – when does progress reach its limit
Without Substance
a kiss means nothing – sex even less – the warmth of an embrace is cold – without substance
Centerpiece
i placed you in a box a cherished memory bound in unglazed earthenware in order that you may never leave me – your ashes line my pyre – your dust floats upon the very air i breathe – your death becomes my sacrifice – as your bones snap beneath my weight i will drag your…
The Old Man and the Wealth of Nations
this old man walked up to me upon exiting the restroom at the entrance of a clinic and asked me if i’d read the wealth of nations by adam smith – i responded i had not as he seized the reigns of the conversation guiding us on a torrential path careening headlong into the rocks…
Sediment
tripping through sands rising falling summer heat shifting mellow trickle rippling the pebble plunks spreading out in all directions stream flows on stone face eroding jagged smoothed sediment lost in the muck
All We’ll Never Do
all the paintings we’ll never paint all the pictures we’ll never take all the books we’ll never read all the movies we’ll never see all the words we’ll never say all the songs we’ll never hear all the places we’ll never go all the food we’ll never taste all the friends we’ll never make all…
Cosmic Zappai
letting her hair down distant stars fall in mourning exploding silence
American Imayo
you need to go make money – i must never stop offered unto the dollar – nameless worker bee utilitarian cog – in a cruel machine everything and more’s for sale – nothing excepted
Piecework Prose 