The historic Eden blessed and banished,
the tree uprooted and our efforts
transposed to the breakfast table—
daily another ironhanded incorruptibility
failing us,
inhibiting our devotion to love
in it’s most sincere form—
that nature held in subjection.
At the onset a kind of repulsiveness,
at its end
the same seemed to hold true—
we have been an awkward type of children,
unable to comprehend this
timeless simultaneity—
collapsing
about each other’s feet
in a comfortless panacea of
sacramental dark
matter, shotgun stars
and steel beam moonlight.
Gregory ONeill
Gregory O’Neill writes about the canny, uncanny and the seemingly sublime as be watches, listens, and seeks attunement to the obscure within the mundane, exploring the emotional physics of absence, civic‑surreal architecture, and the ethics of implication. Home is on Puget Sound, Washington state. Presently with, Route 7 Review, TrashLight Press, Bristol Noir, Litbop, Larina’s Lit, Jake, Last Leaves, Words Faire, Zoetic, Eunoia, Cathexis NW, Gabby & Min’s, Closed Eye Open, Half and One, Undiscovered Poets, Relief Quarterly and others.