ISSUE 2: FALL 2015 / POETRY

“September” by Art Currim

BY ART CURRIM

I’m a wispy ghost in December
So far from the cocky Turk of June
A knight without his armor
Holding on to what I can remember
Hoping the rain will get here soon

Spring seems now to have been a dream
The player just some other guy
If you ask me what I want now
It’s for time to trip
and pass me by

Look at you. Princess. Swan.
Not knowing what you want
Not wanting what you know
Grasping at shadows that slip and move on
Where the ghosts of December go

My form’s as a phantom
Unfamiliar to your eye
Only looking out for spring
Biding a while that’s no longer my own
Unburdened of expectations
Carrying traded bejeweled sins
That I move alone to atone

I miss you. Princess. Swan.
Not knowing what you want
Not wanting what you know
You clutch selfish shadows that know to move on
Where the ghosts of December go

Barista called me from a dream
As he asked me how I’d been
I had a feeling
Like I hadn’t thought it through
I’m still here
Rising to meet you
Cloaked for always
In black and blue

Perhaps you’ll always be a Princess. Swan.
Not knowing what you want
Not wanting what you know
Making timeless moments then moving on
To where the ghosts of December go

Art Currim arrived in Los Angeles a decade ago by way of India, the UK, Canada, and Orange County(!). A composer, video game director, and designer, he began writing poetry for release, to help make sense of his world. It’s caused more harm than good; he understands even less now, in spite of writing more than ever.

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