Self Expression Through Written Word

[Rev. Rye]

I'm really more a short story person myself, but here are a few prose poems I wrote:

OUR TRANSIENT STORM.

A snowstorm sits upon a desk, a precious thing like one of Ed and Tubbs', as few, of course, will understand. Within the glass confining the whole scene, Chicago's skyline gets shaken up by a storm. It shakes, but all is settled soon, and peace resumes.
And soon, we find that we are living in a storm; things change for a brief moment and in that time all is in flux, as Heraclitus is thought to have said, but shortly after, the storm stops, and all is still.
We find that all we knew when we are born is shaken up, but by the end, the whole thing settles, ceso todo, we have gone just as the storm has, and in as brief a time as we percieved.

THE PORCUPINES (SCHOPENHAUER REDUX)
I walk in winter, dogs are sticking to the streets; it really is that cold. At one point in my constitutional, I strayed into the woods. I only wish I knew when I had gone within as clearly I had had a blackout yet again. I wished I didn't give Philip Marlowe a miss. Within the woods, I see a few collective nouns of porcupines. Apparently, they do not hibernate. Importantly, they had no way of keeping their quills in check, like the hedgehog. They climbed on one another, but then they scattered when they got stuck with their own quills. They knew they had to get some warmth, but had to get impaled to get some sort of warmth. And then, I saw another one alone, it was alive, and some of all the snow around had gone into a liquid state. And here, I saw, it was alone and could afford to be, as it had all the warmth it needed on its own, no impalement required. I left the woodland thinking to myself, Human relationships incarnate! Like Ivan Karamazov said, warmth for another requires some distance.

The "Ceso Todo" is, if I remember correctly, a reference to a poem by Lorca. Which one, I don't remember.