Alphabets: Omicron

By Thomas Page I can’t imagine The world so small that It can be placed on A grain of rice and Sold in a beachfront Souvenir shop next To hermit crabs and Obscene tees hung like College banners and Beer signs down the road Mixed with heat and sand And sunburned shoulders Bathed in aloe …

Alphabets: Xi

By Thomas Page I like to play the same songs over and over while working To hear the same lyric again while I try to find my own answers To a soulless prompt before me Requiring me to extract hope from despair And graded on the power of ex nihilo of an e re world. …

Alphabets: Nu

By Thomas Page I can’t seem to truly relax Like sink deeply into an armchair and ponder tea cookies relaxed Because of the access I have to everything I have to do Like a white rabbit burdened with a pocket watch Always late for something and early for nothing The muscles in my neck Tenses …

Alphabets: Mu

By Thomas Page I played the saxophone in the eighth grade Which in hindsight Is the worst time to play the saxophone. I had an alto Which would blister in my teeth As I tried to move my hands along the brass keys Mimicking the basic songs of yore. I remember seating awkwardly Like the …

Alphabets: Omega

By Thomas Page Endings either come too soon or too late. The theatergoers itching to move Watching the actor butcher the iamb times five; The shoe on the gas-pedal rolling the ankle With the hand primed on the horn; The pilgrims waiting for the pilgrimage to end So that they can lay their head on …

Alphabets: Psi

By Thomas Page I know the voice in my head but can’t describe it well. It accompanies me wherever I read And fills in the empty silences with reflection Like a fax machine chugging along in this day and age Sitting by a summer window Thinking of the birds and the leaves swaying in the …

Alphabets: Chi

By Thomas Page Sometimes but not always there is a chiasmus Between strangers as they pass And they just know that this was meant to happen Without a word to isolate them Or a gesture to consolidate them Just a moment to exist And share in something beyond what can be said In any tongue …

Alphabets: Phi

By Thomas Page There is a balance of things made by hands That pleases its eyes in its accordance To what should be and what will be Crafted in the image of something more than itself. This ratio called golden by the eye Sits like a shell circling on itself Like the Uzumaki upon itself …

Alphabets: Upsilon

By Thomas Page The quality of mercy— The groves of the heart— Seem to bloom when the air is ebullient And wither when the air is dense With the situations associated with the hurricanes Gusting away all senses humane. However, the fruit of mercy should not be confused with the seeds of discontent Which like …

Alphabets: Tau

By Thomas Page There’s something comfortable in what the Modernist hated— The risk of routine settling fauve motions into mechanics-- That define the human part of the spirit The need for consistency in each experienced sunrise That sets the stage for the actions most desired by the critics The permanent fourth wall that looks at …