Infinite Disintegration

A static convulses spasmodic'lly,
Covering the dying constellations
That have been twinkling periodic'lly
In the twilight of my fascination.
The sky is white—somewhere between marble
And gossamer. It's something translucent
Juxtaposed over an inky jarble
And its waning, descendant glow crescent.
The muffle of distance, and the murmur
Of a warmer comfort, wallows and wades
In the background like a large-eyed lemur—
In a drunken jungle's canopy shade.
I vanish into it, crawling nearer
To disappearing to somewhere clearer.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Alienation

I am a ufo hanging over
An aphotic landscape—just loitering.
I survey the night. I wait, hovering
Above the clouds that would obscure the stars.
I wander away from familiar
Sights to map out an interstellar sea
Of isolated islands. I'm lon'ly,
Stranded someplace that seems—to me—bizarre.
I'm distant—kept abroad and kept afar.
Like cosmic rocks drifting through empty space,
I orbit elliptic'lly place from place
To return to where my origins are.
Why am I searching? Why am I searching
When I only find traces of nothing?

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Diagnosing a Common Illness

If you are experiencing any of the following symptoms—

Runny nose
Sore throat
Mild or intense fever
Swelling mucus glands
Trouble sleeping
Feelings of uneasiness
Dizzied vision
Moderate to severe headaches
Auditory infections
Upset stomach
Chronic constipation or diarrhea
Traces if nausea
Fainting
Brief instances of depersonation
A sense of withdrawal
Unmotivated behavior
Fatigue
Increased depression

[...] Read more

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Some Days

Some days, I suture myself together
When the seams of my personality
Seem to tear so swiftly from the tether,
The quilted rag of my identity.
Some days, I allow my woolen spindle
To unravel itself into string.
Downward and unrolling, it's mass dwindles
As gravity forces it's spiraling.
Some days, I untangle the knotted threads
That tie all my patches tightly in place,
Preferring that maybe this time instead
I could sow myself and happily trace
The stitch-work compiling the positive
Ways in which, I think, I would like to live.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Information Clouds

Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.
The more I seem to learn, the less I see.
Does all knowledge lie in obscurity
With purpose to augment doubt—to provoke?

Is there understanding that facts revoke,
A pollution spread by zealous study?
The more I seem to learn, the less I see.
Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.

What does this heaviest of fogs evoke
Beyond its acherontic density?
Past these overcast skies, is space empty,
A void beneath this aerosol cloak?
Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Aquarium

I'm swimming behind the glass
As light bends between each of the broken wave.
I find myself at an impasse,
Noticing how I'm enslaved
By the concave walls that curve how I behave.

My face pushes against an
Invisible barrier, but I can see
The outside world stretch and span
Past what has long contained me.
I look at it, weightless, in filtered debris.

I open my mouth and water
Fills me lungs while I float just to watch and stare.
Breathing becomes heavier,
And I begin sinking there,
Grasping for a pocket of crisp and clean air.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Culture Vampire

We are hungry. We want tranquility
That exists crystallized in lignin skin.
We thirst to have familiarity—
To wean on a source of repetition.
We resist our human loneliness,
Replace it with the fear of fading youth.
Our veins drain, leaving only emptiness,
And we famish ourselves seeking non-truth.
The fantasy of denial informs
Our all-consuming, self-absorbed ethos.
The normative taste that we crave deforms
Our long-looming and tenebrous shadows.
We find that we have been stalking the night
In search of an insatiable delight.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Shadow Wars

While the tide of warfare seems to recede,
And while we contract our security,
Media reports once again misread
The flotsam of drifting impurity.
The perils of being unpopular
Drown out the worry, flush out the dissent.
Murkiness shades what appears regular
And silently begins to circumvent.
Drone strikes and electronic surveillance
Wallow in the depths of wading coverture.
We sink in obscured hypervigilance,
Halting waves of ‘terrorism' through torture.
There is no diplomacy yet pursued.
In the shadows, all are being subdued.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Mono No Aware

I see the silhouette of my body
Standing in front of me in the mirror.
I polish the glass, so that I may see
That part of myself reflecting clearer.
I want the depths of my vision to grow
Sharper and more focused in the clear light,
Though, in it, my imperfections will show
As the illumination becomes bright.
Still, I fear one day a dust may settle
To dull the shine my young hands have made.
I wonder why I impede my mettle
To worry for what the future may fade
Since now's temporary image is here,
And destiny is made to disappear.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Unincorporated Insights I

What context contributes toward meaning?
What illusive patterns outline our thoughts?
What process prevents mindless careening
Into tangles of intangible knots—
Into the depths of deeply-rooted seeds
Of imponderable definition?
And what flower does theodicy breed
By the threat of holistic omission?
What cryptic mysteries do we express,
Though in traces of vagrant memories—
Perhaps causing us to hide and repress
Them beneath our transient reveries?
What codex—so voiceless—do we create?
What emergent grammar elucidates?

poem by Tim Stensloff
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