By James G. Piatt
Winter’s gales are causing my cynicism to expand into a sad absurdity. And where do I go from here, this idle place of slow movements, unsteady breath, and painful limbs? I feel my mind becoming numb, inside emptiness. My life is like a dream crawling through the shadows of sadness.
Time trapped inside dust and memories, echoed in the halls of my mind as my sad days were soaked with gloomy shadows, and briny tears.
Sad memories are crawling down the dark corridors of my mind like wounded ravens lost in the night. I am living in a shadowy gap of existence, a pause between moments in time smoldering in the darkness. Isolated bits of absurdity are floating in an allegorical river, and they are whirling around my head as they flow into a maelstrom, spinning, spinning, and dragging me into its vortex. And at
the bottom, nothing.
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James has published five collections of poetry, and over 1850 individual poems in scores of national and international publications, such as Backchannels Journal, Nebo, Miller’s Pond, Penwood Review, Front Porch, London Grip, Minetta, The American Aesthetic, El Porto, Badlands Journal, Sparks of Calliope, and hundreds of others. He was twice nominated for the Best of The Net award, and four times for a Pushcart award, and was the featured poet of the month in literary magazines eleven times. He earned his doctorate from BYU and his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, SLO.