Brian Minniear

I have this nightmare of dawn
Transfixing nigh ever, save the most recessed pallor
And her deliberate texture and dimension in implacable revelation are won
...

We spun, trapped in a pane,
Through stars that we rarely saw
But took for granted
...

Biting cold
Always knew me well
Frozen pen
Meets hand, familiar
...

When days of allegory are passed, as simile no longer applies to singularity
And fact alone bends not to whimsy
Beyond all labels, behind even our interpretation
Where we are left (or begun)
...

My heart explodes slowly.
And shattering along spider-webbed cracks
Arcs outward and falls,
Becomes rain for what's beneath
...

There was a container that held a crystal
In some vaguely similar fashion,
A crystal that held the light
...

Like breakthrough patches of sunlight
In warm spots on the floor
But I always notice sunlight in bare feet.
...

The broader your perspective, the more difficult it becomes to put emphasis on the smaller things
Like life
Yet one tear can steal the show
And because it is all contextual
...

No more dear to me than self,
Yet across a thousand spans
Set out and sought this grey-green euphoria
A numbing of the voices, near enough to hear Heaven sigh
...

(The message returns on radio waves)

Model of inferior; relatively stationary core
Appealing to the apparatuses, aptly named. And rushing ever toward hesitation,
...

In the dream as I lay
In that perfect cusp betwixt and begetting
In either direction both summer and fall
...

And do we not dwell like monitors, afloat out at sea
Asleep with the lights on, as it were.
Stupefied it really does fade.
...

Life has freed me up
To sit and wait; sit and watch.
My lens is bent and twists
Like fabric in an hourglass,
...

The peel of thunder, as the roof were off the sky
And I think, gunshot, before I hear its approach and roll.

The report is of a rainy day, and him dead in the apartment three doors away;
...

Et hoc visio nocturna luce
Transfigens prope semper, nisi orci, maxime pallor
Et ea ratione deliberata textura et implacabilem in revelatione obtinuit
...

and lacking the cohesion of water or space
are we made into years

the ultimatum of purpose,
...

I'm fine with the rain on my skin
Is a lie
Perplexed by
The abstraction of form
...

When cheeks are zipped open
And demons are pulled from the neck
Screaming, working out the past tenses of these nouns
As the whistling room turns
...

Accommodate no man, before language is turned again
Upon itself. She carries now my children unto death:
Wading into battle unarmed, anger unrequited,
Waist-deep in expiration.
...

O he is impossible that selects them;
A box maker of inscrutable ordinance
And we meanwhile dance across the head of a pin,
Seldom understanding
...