*Jenae’s manuscript, “Stopped On a Needle Feed For Infinity” (collection of over 60 poems), will be available for purchase soon in hard or paper back versions. (The book contains language that may not be suitable for all readers)…CONTACT for more details, but for now here’s a little taste…
Seeing Everything Blinded:
I saw the mountain wounded.
Standing taller than itself
Bleeding, into the air
ninety degrees,
parallel to the floor,
pulled
through like a vacuum
flying past the endless
patch of skyscraper-tree-trunks,
at one hundred miles per hour,
I saw the mountain darken.
I saw the river burning
the earth’s flesh ageing,
deepening infinity
cycling rotations forced
to continue
never
displacing labor:
possibility to polish.
I saw the mountain wounded,
people evolving,
river drying.
Drying dead evolution
in a puddle
of a moistened thunder
living with
a soul that only exists
in minds
now discarded.
I saw the mountain wounded,
trees forgotten,
nothing gathering.
I saw thoughts imploding.
Forgotten nothing imploding
on an empty mountain
brings ease to my mind
yet I know these
burdened words,
sparsity of ambiguous explanation,
heightens voided knowledge.
Knocking down this Church
with this crane;
that’s what I do
to force communication
on-to the blank reflection.
Things living in this place:
Forced to face.
My suspicion arises
in this world
I’ve established
crumbling the core
at this revelation.
I saw rocks evaporating.
Blinded by living
in nothingness;
all I have is my imagination
but that does not even exist
without my kaleidoscope
of perception.
Look down,
I can’t even see my hands.
What I see is pure, but
when I close my eyes I never see darkness.
I ignore truth,
see reality.
A reality
of what they have become.
A reality
of what I am becoming.
That beat is evaporating
like the rock
like the train
swaying back and forth
by the pull
and the adapting precision
of that cyclical motion,
the friction
on one rail
that holds the air
resting on gravity’s description.
Trail and train.
A foggy image, sepia,
enhancing symbolism of
the inability to
stop
recklessly continuing
at an unbearable speed
it does not end
until the end.
Until the evaporation
from that rock
disrupts the filtered instinct
blaming its own origin.
Pathetic.
The smoky horizontal
still
sits within the three –
dimensional landscape
just above eye level.
I saw the mountain wounded.
I saw the train departing.
–Jenae Adreanna