Ephemera

Poetry should move us, it should change us, it should glitch our brains, shift our moods to another frequency. Poetry should evoke feelings of melancholy, whimsy, it should remind us what it feels like to be in love, or cause us to think about something in a completely different way. Poetry, and all art really, is a temporary and fragile bridge between our world and a more pure and refined one. This is a world we could bring into creation if enough of us believed in it. This book is ephemera, destined to end up forgotten, lingering on some dusty shelf or tucked away in a dark attic. Yet the feelings the words evoke, they will live on in memory. I hope these words become a part of you, bubble up into your memory when you least expect them to, and make you feel a little more alive.

From Ephemera:

JUST BEFORE THE CITY WAKES

The city

hasn't quite woken

and the empty streets,

they don't

yet belong to us.

Facades gleam

in the stillness and

the slices of space

in between teem

with bathing birds,

squirrels and

rabbits feasting

in the golden hour.

Just before

the city wakes,

kitchen fans

begin to hum,

sweet and low,

spewing the scents

that will summon

the masses to

their feet.

What a gift this is

to witness such

a lovely freedom,

and to know

that nature

finds a way

to persist

in spite of us

and will be here

long after our last

edifice fades away.

~EVW~