Two poems by Christopher Sahms

Two poems
by Christopher Sahms

Aged Hands

You die once and your life ends.
So much life unconsciously looped, the minutes
Hardly add up —Is this what it takes
To recognize anything at all?

The wasted moments are atop the domino
Standing in expectation at the inertiatic impasse cuckolding
The very space needed for breath, for thoughts to enter—

Wasted time
Wasted words
Wasted on breath
Wasting-words

Must we do everything horizontally, approaching at a glance?
—I resent having to look aside to see ahead.

The foresight of a crab can hardly be worth it
Oblique rigid-hinged creatures of the sand
Their claws always at attention, clacking ceremoniously.

Idle thoughts, unaware
Idle words, unspoken

Banality: the crux of every observation
In a hopeless expanse of letters.
Wastrel windbags each selling their wares.

The poetry quietly slips out, denuded, without grace—
And without wasting words on aged hands.

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Icarus Qualms

The World leaves you as a murmur at the sight of dead clouds,
The Nothing hanging o'er the unfolding eternal night.
You are left to dream It again,
To thoughtlessly recount events as they have never occurred before.
The next day approaches vindictively,
Though in good humor and with gratitude for
Your unknowing and imminent arrival.

Author bio:

Relevant Biographical Minutia:

1. Whales are giant synthesizers. 2. Only humans could have invented the dildo. 3. I have thrown shaved feral cats through drive-through windows. 4. My atheism is a function of having seen Star Jones eating.