Seth A. Howard


SEA-FOAM

I feel a heaviness well inside.
O indigo 
Surf; 
The few 
Things 
That make her 
Smile.

Blue sun,
Desolate 
Evenings.
I step 
Thru 
Time; 
Return 
To a 
Day 
Nearly forgotten.

I run into 
A couple 
Friends 
At the café. 
We all
Have too 
Much
To say.  
Was it 
The 
Irish in me—or the Japanese?

I make a list
Of all the 
Things—I 
Didn’t do.
The fish 
Flash
In the sea.
O  
Anything 
To make her laugh. 



[I float in silence…]

I float in silence; drift in clouds.      
Was my lover 
a mere ghost?  
I
sit
before the idols.  Night 
falls,
& I feel abjection.
The poet sings of
rain; a gothic girl 
who waits alone—
They try to judge
us, but who 
could we call a saint?  I glance  
out a window, of 
a
burning 
car,
at a 
girl
who 
does
not 
move.  

My city screams.  An orange moon & Mars. 



THE END

This moment I have only the center of my breath
& a picture of all past & future 
Embodied within my hope.  So
Was it a friend who ’d betrayed me?
Or 
Perhaps family?  Let’s get it straight
“You don’t tell me what to believe, 
Just as I don’t tell you.”  Beneath the black sun of a Nihilistic land.
The Nazca Lines of my mind unwind, 
But 
Do not unravel.

The birth of day, wildfires of night.    
Isabelle my ally—or Isabelle my 
Foe.  As my limbs quake - against
The stress of fuckers, who claims
To know the truth?  Nothing ‘s
Standing on the hill but the warp of a figure 
(Gold) upon a nebulous filament.  

Seth A. Howard is the author of Out of the East, & Waters from a Well; two experimental chapbooks. His work has appeared in Otoliths, BlazeVOX [books], unarmed journal, Big Hammer, Oddball Magazine, Chronogram, Saudade, & Elephant. He graduated from the University of Connecticut, & attended Sophia University in Tokyo for three years. In his spare time, he enjoys the practice of Zazen, watches J-drama, & studies French in New London where he resides.

 
 

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