March 11, 2024
Poetry
By Lamplight
Artwork by DALL·E
In my old age before my old age I reach for a glass of water, a book on the nightstand. The Inferno is popular. Let it be The Inferno. Virgil says something stupid having spent too long in heaven. For as long as my friends have known me I’ve been falling in and out of love. But they are well. The past continues its lingering existence, a lamplight in the dark: a meringue’s tongue-sweet before the fall childhood smear of Trinity, firefly shadows between my fingers, slipping as I say them, crossed with tortuous personality, love’s parachuting dive- bombers. It is time to forget the images. The sublime images.
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David Capps is a philosophy professor and poet who lives in New Haven, CT. He is the author of four chapbooks: Poems from the First Voyage (The Nasiona Press, 2019), A Non-Grecian Non-Urn (Yavanika Press, 2019), Colossi (Kelsay Books, 2020), and Wheatfield with a Reaper (Akinoga Press, forthcoming). His latest work, On the Great Duration of Life, a riff on Seneca’s On the Shortness of Life, is available from Schism Neuronics.
Profiles:
Website: https://wcsu.academia.edu/DavidCapps
