Rhys Owens Poems

Freezing, alone, a girl within herself tends the ground;
Knowing the water does nothing but freeze, till around
The turn of the year, winter gives way to spring again,
Where cold, distant ice sees to mending; flowers begin
...

when i used to have to send letters to the editor
from charleville-mezieres,
i used to use stamps with pictures of Louis Pasteur on them.
in the united states, i've been sending out manuscripts,
...

i lost my wallet
a few weeks ago,
while i was sitting on the rainwashed
beach, after my truest love
...

The white man is born in fire,
That's why he thinks of Heaven.
God is a cold kind of love
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One more bleak spring.
One more of power and agony.
A burning death in every momentary pleasure;
Botched pleasure makes a man immortal.
...

there's a phone in another place,
in the room with the computer
in the house i don't live in.
sometimes i put it there,
...

Brother, silent one always dancing,
Sending the blonde girls into hysteria,
You chase that color right out of the rainbow.
And, boy, were the noons ever warm.
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The tree that shaded the window at night,
Between the shaking light that told me whether the aliens were coming,
As sometimes I lay on my cot, or stand by the heater;
They cut you down. They cut you down, and took you as wood
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The quick are ever-willing, in short skirts and fake jewelry more real
Than the real thing, to be friendly for the sake of being friendly.
The lively sprite, light-footing through the aisles of tireless demands;
No one here is rich, no one here is important―pointless herd rabble.
...

I watched a movie the other day, I
Went across the road and checked the mail,
I ate lunch and breakfast at once,
Under the arm of the fleeting noon:
...