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  • Connor

Awake! It calls,

gleaming once anon,

Through void at last withdrawn,

Come to rise you.

Scatter, stir the trees,

Skip and shine through all the leaves,

Then paint panes anew and bright,

O Aberration of delight,

Through waves cast on slanted wall,

Ripple and sway with coming fall.


So awake! The darkness is gone!

In its place, the silver light dawn.


2018-2019



  • Connor

Welcome to my new site! I'll be using this page to share thoughts, stories, poems, essays and anything else that comes to mind. I will likely focus on cinema and poetry, but attempt to explore diverse artistic platforms and experiences. Perhaps I'll publish a new or old journal entry from time to time.


Inaction of classes:

Collecting only claims.

Derivate the pastless,

Have it swept of its remains.


Dumbed down for the masses

The hopeless art of chains.

Close the eye of glasses

Follow interlude of trains.


Burn the sassafrases

Watch the world loose all its reigns.

Symphony of brasses

Cannot tune, then rather feigns


Think us not as taskless,

We're the makers and the made;

Most shall walk on passed us

But watchful shan't evade.


Our words shall long outlast us;

Await the break of day,

When true light through us passes

Glass poets we'll be made.


That light nearly refracts us,

Our true selves on display.

Bubbles, waves, cracks thus

Abstract truth to perfect way.





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