Dustin
Pickering is founder of Transcendent Zero Press, a literary publishing house in
Houston, Texas. He is editor-in-chief of the award nominated quarterly Harbinger
Asylum. He is the author of multiple poetry collections including The
Daunting Ephemeral, Salt and Sorrow, Knows No End, Frenetic/No Contest, and The
Alderman: spurious conversations with Jim Morrison. He is author of
the short story collection The Madman and Fu. His work on
aesthetics A Matter of Degrees was published by Hawakal
Publishers. He was a feature for Houston's popular reading series Public Poetry
in 2013. He is a former contributor to Huffington Post. He is a literary
critic, essayist, painter, musician, and contemplative. He lives alone in
Houston, Texas.
vacancy in time
if
in culture said
is time done
where
and when
the struggle of sound
overlaps the presence
of
Being
cold
forces engage
the tremors of night
when
my fathomless energy
is
spent
forever
dying
and
having
nothing to say
the
clock turns, hands gyrating
like opposing thumbs
endlessly
seeking the emergence of day
I
recant my cowardly pose
venomous
in regret
composed in
solitude
again
grief lays its claim on me
silent,
struggling
the body of
Christ lifted
by the angel
of death
empty church
i
march
gladiator
on the wing
random
firings of misgivings
shifting
the palace authority
the
lights dim only to resurface wildly
like
a conundrum of wishes
his
face tells us the nature of things to come
quiet
in mind’s threshold
a
whispering wind
i
can’t seize the commandments
where
i stand erect as a finger
complexity
is the engineer of sorrow
solicitude
strays from the aesthetic
i
shift on the wings as my battle strengthens its flight
i
am an engine of tomorrow
brightly
engaging in bountiful puzzles
faithfully
watching the tumult of Being
grant
honor to the empty church
show me
in
offer the grant of mercy
his
tears are metal bars flexed in figures
as
a victim should -- i am gay
and
lifting the stars to the edge of deep
lightning
strikes but you are not my child
the
ocean calls back her tears
soft
as a languishing angel of bliss
carrying
baby smiles in a fear
the
envisioned plan of rotting space
deep
and dark a prison of birth
I
don’t see the waves calling to me
puzzled
I lift the dreams of my youth
into
terrible satisfaction, kissed by god
milk
of denial
the crust of
evil
knows only
bread of survival
we
torch our memories
pyres of forgetfulness
power
in the dark
bright lamp, show me.
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