Micheal Valencia

Memory train,
Stopping at all of the stations throughout the continental
United States,
Dropping off the current vestiges of emotion to pickup
...

Just in case

The night were
to fall
...

Do you remember such bored and angry
denizens to occupy Earth’s spacious body?

Were the citizens of the middle, bronze or
...

I saw my blood the other day:
The wound was inflicted by a
Sharp object to the upper part of my arm,
The lower part of my shoulder;
...

...

Jay holds the future close with hands
that have known known wonders;
the orgiastic feast that is indulged in,
leaving satiated with sensations of the past;
...

If I could touch a heart,
I would feel a literal heart;
I would never live within the bounds of figurative affection,
I would bring true Desire and give it palpable form:
...

To bring myself closer to universal friendship I
am a participant in this Sin, Reader;
I sin for the Heavens and for Love Divine.
...

They’re clicking beneath my fingers; I’ve waited all day for this moment—and now it’s here.

I’m uniting all of the abstract thoughts of my day and assessing the power of tonight’s Muses: I’m in the process of reclaiming every stray philosophy that I found hiding in between my study pages; the little Platos, feeling mischievous, I suppose, that attempted to provoke me from beneath Milton’s meter; that, foot by foot, florid description by florid description, early American poem by early American poem, kept protruding their anxious heads—daring me to juxtapose them with the beloved poet and compare syntax…and they’re still clicking away!
...

“It’s undefined and grateful to be so;
It makes itself not try harder,
It makes itself unknown and unconcerned with work—
It's okay to be plain,
...

Forever in the present,
Held vicariously in centrifugality
Between the future and the past,
Between established philosophy
...

wont you come dance
with me to this music
[resonating from our
warmly devoted hearts]
...

''This is your erudition? '
Life,
with the utmost asperity,
inquires of Petrulous the Ghost...
...

My honeysuckle, baby.
Baby, you’re my honeysuckle.
You’re my Honeysuckle Baby.
My Honeysuckle Baby, baby.
...

'The fault, my dear Brutus,
lies not in our stars but in ourselves...'

- From 'Julius Caesar'
...

I saw my blood the other day:
The wound was inflicted by a
Sharp object to the upper part of my arm,
The lower part of my shoulder;
...

Feeling isn’t the inside of the hand
but the outer skin
the flesh bone friction
Everything external
...

See them all rush from the doors of the train,
They push in half-aggression trying to get where
they need to go, but no ill-will:
Some plod up the stairs, some move truckingly
...

Grasping just to hold,
naive hands renouncing the recondite
equation which forms a material existence—
embracing simply the form which confronts its attention.
...

I

To write this: To be writing absolutely nothing but to feel so much.
...