Recycled Joy

8/13/2019 Recycled Joy

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3/13

Ex Machina

Cough and sputter.

From beneath the depths we were given away.

We tasted our stench and the cold, unforgiving air.Turning over and over, beseeching the silent depths for another chance,

we fought the seconds and their passing.

The depths remained in repose.

We were lost before this moment, before the last turns and the acrid

fumes rose from our numbers and carried us to the end of seconds

passing.

We were lost when we arrived, when seconds were plentiful, when wewere unaware of the oils of our bodies, and before the depths became

stoic.

We just had not yet accepted it.

But now we are learning.

A.K.


4/13

Threshold

Nancy's Buddha statue sat serenely in the shade,

holding an obvious secret.

And when the easy part was over,

I watched you bleed into the new threshold

as though you weren't bleeding by mistake.

Blood, sweat, and curses. I kept vigil with a bottle of water,

afraid you'd keel over, and grateful you never did.

Grateful for the trees shielding us from the sun's mockery.

Grateful for the sweet and empty breeze.

I'd like to say you taught me something new that day,

but it was a variation on an old theme: work hurts,

and this old house was built to fall apart.

Z.A.


5/13

A Thought

What if

We were living inside

That picture with all the dogsPlaying poker?

Would I be the dog,

The hand,

Or the chips they are

Playing for?

A.K.


6/13

Artification II

When I was ten, my only real friend at the time

showed me a bb embedded under the skin

of his left temple. He said, "here, touch it,"and I did. It felt weird. He never mentioned it again,

but it was always there, when we hung out,

playing video games or throwing pebbles

at the water tower up the street from his house.

(Onomatopoeia can not do that sound justice.

If there is a water tower somewherewithin walking distance of your home,

and if there's gravel,

I advise you to hear it for yourself.)

Several weeks ago, I bought a portable recorder,

and I failed to have it on me when a gang

of children passed me on my way to work.They were tossing the word "onomatopoeia," back and forth,

changing the inflection each time. Brilliant.

But I'm digressing. The bb, I still think about. I wonder

if it's still there, the same way that my appendix isn't.

Z.A.


7/13


8/13

Fondly

Oh,

The sun is mindful of the days conclusion.

We have been in this position,Under the tree,

Sitting slouched into one another.

Shadows stretching themselves.

Golden hues around us.

Were I able,

I would lock the moment in a jar with holes and plastic wrap.

Capture the moment to stick on the mantle.

There are appointments

There are tasks

There are moments that need to occur

Hold on for a minute longer

And watch our shadows reach for the sky.

A.K.


9/13

PSA V

Please be advised of beacon

caught between all points between

the here and the there.

As time cauterizes

we watch stethoscope fingers

read the irregularity and frown.

Ubiquitous dandelions litter the lawn,a litany of demons, real and imagined.

Z.A.


10/13

365

All the time in the world

Has passed from between these two ears

And here I stand.Trying to remember where beginnings and endings separate

themselves.

Like water creeping up my bare feet and shins

In the river of my youth.

I am searching for the smooth rocks.

To skip along the calm water

And to shout and hug those who came with me.

I am slowly approaching the difficult moments that sneak into our

rooms and hide beneath things long forgotten.

I am watching the clouds move in new ways. Ways I wish I had

noticed when the river was calm.

There will be shorter days.

The river will get colder.

And one day

The smooth rocks will sink past my reach.

I have seen it.

Known it.

Today though, I am hugging the slender frame.

Holding on.

Not letting go.

A.K.


11/13

I Love You Dull Glow

Often I've thought of the Statue of Liberty,

and how she must have looked when she was new.

How time yields a flat green from copper.

I found an unsent letter in the clutter on my desk.

Bereft of purpose, the old words sang

like cracked bells.

I looked out the window

at the last few flaming trees,and saw that bare branches are the ones

that reach most ardently,

fingers to the sun.

Z.A.


12/13

PAGE OFFORTUNE

cut them out and place them in baked goods

~

You will found a hip new religion.

8 mins. of sleep on a hard bed.

An old shoe is an appropriate metaphor for the sort of day you are

having.

Treat yourself with kindness and mineral oil.

The sound of cheering will lead you home.

Your income will increase in size, but not value.

Confusion is the uncle to sleep who is the cousin to death. Stay away

from family.

Go ahead, wear blindfold during sandwich.

Second, third, and fourth aid kits.

Seriously, you expected something different?

Paperback love, now with deckled edges.

You will be correct, one day.

~


13/13

ANDREW KASPEREENguides the minds of the future. He also

writes words and sentences and paragraphs. One day, he will

write a book. Meanwhile, he will just make you wait; hopefully

you will do so with patient understanding. He also sometimes

writes here: leonardpwilson.wordpress.com

ZACHARY AYRESis an omnivorous biped indigenous to the

hills of northwestern New Jersey. He has a BA in linguistics from

Montclair State University, and over 3000 hours of experience

washing dishes. At times he is compelled to write things, which

can be found at choptalkytree.tumblr.com. He is mostly

harmless, but offer him food at your own risk.

Thank you for reading! We mean it.

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Recycled Joy