Polarized Ends

My soul is not kindred, it is imaginary
Like Jesus in the concentric circle of dots
It is not solar exclusive, stare at anything too long and you go blind
The page-turning and sage burning has me unlearning the words I once hoarded

Like what for? Who for? No amount of beauty or love sustains the flower
Abstract concepts do not grow the grass; that is sun and water
That is the son and daughter who eat your dreams in front of your face
Not I, I spot a spy in my circle and show him the use of a circular saw

Show him how stable a table can be with three legs
No horses but the fields get plowed, no need to be proud
The process is enough, the work is the reward

Attempt Two

Making water and fire out of firewater
This is reverse engineering quite literally
Impoverishing myself as to engorge rapidly

What is really worth my while
and what’s just worth it for a while, I don’t know
I have permanent solutions for temporary problems
Medical grade solvent for the slightest stain

The crystalline Sistine slipping off my lips like the Listerine
Let’s talk real standards, don’t talk to me about how many publications you have
How many books in pending: tell me how many friends you’ve lost
How much blood (in pints) you’ve spilled, how much do your parents resent you?

John Maurer is a 26-year-old writer from Pittsburgh that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and more than sixty others.