Interludes I
we ‘ve met in happy interlude:
As I traipse from one act of suffering to the next
I cling to the soft and gentle
Walk with sun
continue to eat bread
I notice something
different in you
You notice
I leave the curtain drawn—unending
I become afraid of night
So afraid I tear the moon, in all its loudness
Out of the sky
I hold tightly the false idol I’ve created:
Junk relics— made Important through possession
Kept in my own little box inside my chest
Interludes II
Ideologies of love become wounded
We lay down with the world, beside it
Listening to the whistle in the grass
Wind blowing ash and the hardness of truth
Turning our souls, turning our souls
We continue as interlude ends:
You— radiant as before
Me— learning to be held by the earth
Max DeZarate is a poet based out of Bend Oregon. His works have been previously featured in the Wingless Dreamer’s “depths” of summer”. Max’s poetry Explores the ways we are taught to love and relate and how we can push through traditional understanding to new and beautiful places.