Psuedo-Confession of the Sun Worshipper
Heartsick
ripple
in
the air.
Traversing
long pauses,
I
just shrink.
Obsession
with the qualities.
Sorting
out terrors, nights.
A
wandering water-bearer,
a
terrible government.
I
shake the day
off,
like lies.
Crucial
horizon.
Walking
was important—
to
ward off the jumpiness,
the
testiness, express
a
certain ghostly check mark.
The
woody hand-off,
the
wizard-listening ....
When
will our sun intervene
in
these supermatters?
Unleash
our
own slow leak
light.
N.W. Lea’s second book
of poems, Understander (Chaudiere
Books, 2015) was a finalist for the 2016 Archibald Lampman Award for Poetry. He
currently lives and writes in Dawson City, Yukon with his partner and two cats.
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