Rhys Owens

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
...

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.
...

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
...

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:
...

Hold on, stay back.
I leave the gate open
So the demon will creep into me
And I can have my way with it,
...

Consult the oracle,
Everyday, ―morning, in the newspaper, at the store.
Or don't.
...

The rain hangs now, in Valentine cards, from the trees.
―Waiting, days and nights, to be returned.
Union, as the gods that stand for wholes,
The Living Planet―the Far Off Sky.
...

Over hills, blue eyes, the sea:
Across the skies, play your mystic mandolin
The tune of night of Death-returned,
Home, in search of home,
...

Honest men never tell lies,
Otherwise they'd lose their rights of existence.
But it isn't honesty that lies in truth.
The fact is that truth doesn't lie;
...

I've formed a nervous cough
From some neurotic things that float inside,
And I've been digging through my unconscious
Trying to make it stop.
...

You cannot remember this:
I don't expect you to remember.
All the same…
Can you remember the time
...

When she sings,
Like a warm salt
Of frost that seldom falls;
A pepper-hot shaker,
...

There's a new episode tonight;
a new form that's whipped in shape,
out side of space and time,
for now...
...

Sometimes when I get tired
of talking to myself
and all the parts
—out there somewhere:
...