[ pictures | prose | flashes of awe ] by Mike Yost

prose

Loss and Meanness

 

 

 

 

 

Loss and meanness

They are what fill
this world

Though, a few beautiful, tender moments do thrive
Though, not all of us bare witness

Moments flung into our path, spinning out sharp colors that cut the eye
Moments flung out as stars, swimming across the deep surface of a yawning midnight sky
burning against all that inky, boundless black that greedily consumes the light

Moments separated by vastness itself
and burning alone—
in sight of one another,
but void of their warmth
Drifting in a black ocean with tongues of fire that lick obsidian waves

All this loss and meanness

They push against the skin
against the shoulders
shove us into the earth

Soil broken apart beneath bare feet
the lungs fill with dust as we breathe in
as we reach out

Fingers stretched wide apart
grasping at a cluster of nearby flowers
palming petals just to smell their profound fragrance

And only a few,
So very few,

Brush with fingertips those blooms that burn bright violet
and shake without concern in the arms of a warm breeze

 

© Mike Yost

 

 


Image

We Are As Clouds

We are as brief as clouds

Adrift and deeply wounded

We shed cold tears upon the surface of ancient rock

Carving ravines into the face of the Earth with our lament

To then vanish like smoke, tumbling and spiraling beneath a burning sun

 

© Mike Yost


Image

Breathing is Being

Breathe inside this cavernous space beneath the sky
That thin blue veil draped over the Earth
Cloaking a vast vacuity looming deep beyond comprehension

An obsidian glass dome that transcends time itself
Burning with spinning stars embedded in its bosom
Orbiting and colliding and drifting without end

Breathe inside this unceasing awe
This vivid phantasmagoria of light
That dances dressed in vibrant hues
Upon the thin surface of my eyes

© Mike Yost


A Cavern in the Heart

There’s a cavern in my heart

Carved out by the biting knife of lost loves

Splintered futures

Echoes of nights falling asleep beside him

Sheets and legs tangled in hope and contentment

Those warm moments now fading, ever so slowly

Slinking into the deep corners of my skull

Lost in the company of frozen shadows

 

Yet . . .

 

I breathe, slowly, inside this vast emptiness

The burden of forging hope

Now held tightly in my weary hands

The crack of a hammer against stony walls

Deafens the cold surrounding me

As loud sparks illuminate meaningful experiences forgot:

 

Watching the moon burn a white crater into the night sky

Swimming in the roar and ferocity of a live concert

A hug from a close friend

 

These images painted on rocky, damp surfaces like pictographs

Flash out of the darkness with each crack of the hammer

The sealed entrance now a pile of inert and fractured rocks

 

Faint whispers float on the shoulders of air anew

Beckoning me

Into the blinding sun, or

Into a blinding storm, or

Into a blinding, moonless night

 

My bare, cracked feet stumble over shattered stones

Carrying me forward

I find myself under a boundless canopy of timeless stars

Looking up into the depths of black infinity with a faint smile

I breathe, slowly, inside this vast emptiness

 

© Mike Yost