October 2018
Marc Darnell
marcdarnell@twc.com
marcdarnell@twc.com
I am a custodian and tutor in Fremont, Nebraska. I have been a hotel supervisor, phlebotomist, editorial assistant, farmhand, busboy, pizza-maker, and volunteer comedian to everyone in my life. I've published poems in The Lyric, Skidrow Penthouse, and Shot Glass Journal. I don't have a book out and don't know how to go about doing that.
Zag
Imagine a day when roughness is refined,
bedlam smoothed, no path pitted and bleak,
when time's reversal levels all mistakes
that etched our lives of mazes with no end.
Let reclination rule, and roars unwind—
with static gone, our shyness starts to speak,
revealing flaws and reasons we went weak.
Tired rifts inside begin to bind,
although unsteadiness goes on and on—
side to side we cling to piles of dirt,
or take to sky to keep from falling down
from aches in jolts and sanity unspun.
Crooked a God who never says a word
as tears stagger, never reach the ground.
Zag
Imagine a day when roughness is refined,
bedlam smoothed, no path pitted and bleak,
when time's reversal levels all mistakes
that etched our lives of mazes with no end.
Let reclination rule, and roars unwind—
with static gone, our shyness starts to speak,
revealing flaws and reasons we went weak.
Tired rifts inside begin to bind,
although unsteadiness goes on and on—
side to side we cling to piles of dirt,
or take to sky to keep from falling down
from aches in jolts and sanity unspun.
Crooked a God who never says a word
as tears stagger, never reach the ground.
© 2018 Marc Darnell
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