Writing Prompt #127 “NoEnd House Part 7″ and OctPoWriMo Day 1

Nodus Tollens

Spools of cumulus

Shift my perceptions,

A canvas swallowed

By its own immensity.

Birds spill from their featureless eaves

Gathering taffeta in their gilded beaks,

A Rorschach of conjectures

Unspoken but for laughter.

My soul searches the whiteness

For innocence and on finding

Nothing comparable settles

Savagely into its own blackness.

A firmament damp with tears

Frees itself from

The panes of my fixed gaze,

Nothing falls from above.

The animals in their silence

Unravel, migrating

To a decaying pasture in the west.

Blue erodes to charcoal

The same spectrum

As your disembodied soul.

I count each of our deaths

On my outstretched fingers,

The sun melting

Through reels of nostalgia.

Nothing worth having comes

With the security of explanation.

I have felt things which terrorize

Even in daylight.

I have been and then again

I have ceased.

This plot does not favor

The narrator and the audience

Is too often indifferent.

There is no reason

To depress these black keys

But I must if I am still to breathe.

Where is joy

That so few find her

And why is she so thrifty?

Must one suffer for art

As the clouds through

Continual reinvention?