Poem by Seth Howard

 

I Begin Again

Sunday mornings, bitterness
of coffee. Silence & the
skies grey, cloud laden. This presence
I feel in the half-light. Bluish
words that spill from my hands.
Night vacant reels under the
pain of this. A vision of deep
rooms. Sleep beneath the bodhi
tree on a Sunday. I walk the
streets of Paris in my dream.
The slow inception of waking
hours. I sit there & gather
my thoughts. Sensations that
pool in liquid light. & those
night fires that flare in alleys
across the city. I’m reborn in
a hall of mirrors. Awaken to
the sound of
water flowing through the room.

 

Seth Howard the author of two chapbooks: Out of the East, & Waters from a Well. His work has appeared in Otoliths, BlazeVOX [books], unarmed journal, Big Hammer, Oddball Magazine, Chronogram, Saudade, & Elephant. He graduated from the University of Connecticut, & studied abroad at Sophia University in Tokyo for three years. In his spare time, he enjoys the practice of Zazen, watches J-drama, & co-edits CAPSULE Magazine in New London where he lives.

Chad Parenteau is Associate Editor of Oddball Magazine.

 

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1 Comment

  1. This poet is very profound, love the ‘dark’ sense of it… Yet there IS a lightness of being in the moment and seeing the BEAUTY of the moment… –gv

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