I am in a spaceless gap between here and elsewhere. My memories run down the dark corridors of my mind like wounded ravens in the night. I live in a galactic gap of existence, a pause between micro-moments in time. My demons, with their icy breath, coat the color of infinity with winter’s shadows. Hours whirl around my head as thinking fails to materialize: Idiotic forms of words on the rims of truth become isolated bits of absurdity floating in the mainstream of an ideological river heading into a maelstrom. The monstrous eddy is spinning, spinning, dragging me into its vortex, and at the bottom, a briny nothingness. Cold is the earth as winter roams the land in its white and stormy robe. Cold is my heart when winter’s winds carve miseries on my future tombstone. In the place where dawn is waiting to be born, winter’s gales fill my heart with an absurdity, causing my cynicism to ebb back into an expanse of absurdity, where huge sea snails crawl along the sandy bottom looking for Godot. And where do I go from here, here, this idle place of non-movement, unsteady breath, and undetermined hours? No, no, I want to run and leap. I want to know the pleasure of hidden secrets once remembered. But all I feel is my mind going numb inside an emptiness. I cannot feel my thoughts as the thread of each thought is unraveling, and my brain fails to touch that which was lost, it is like an eerie dream crawling through shadows.
James G.Piatt has published five collections of poetry, The Silent Pond, Ancient Rhythms, LIGHT, Solace Between the Lines, and Serenity, five novels, forty short stories, and 1780 poems in magazines such as Helix, Nebo, London Grip, California Poetry Magazine, American Aesthetic, and Badlands Lit. He is a twice-nominated Best of Net nominee and a four-time nominated Pushcart nominee. He earned his doctorate from BYU, and his BS and MA from Cal Poly State University.
