Nicholas Roberts
Vancouver deconstructed
I am a tourist,
and buildings surround me
in a forest both shimmering
and falling apart:
pieces of what I remember about you
have been fragmented,
demolished unconditionally
as if you decided to dismember yourself
in order to evolve.
You have broken the bone structure of your buildings,
clogged your arteries with consumers of black blood.
A part of you,
exposed to the relentless elements
and the tilling fingers of human caress,
grows again–
reconnecting you with nurture and nature,
spreading the synapses
for new recollections to be made.
This place could, in time, become any other place:
I breathe deeply and enter
the tunnels my vision renders blind.
I am left to behold the empty station,
another organ in a concrete body—
I am digested whole.
© 2013 by Nicholas Roberts – Used with permission
Mastery
My breath is my command, and none other.
In this cluttered room, there are but cards in every direction
and I imagine my thoughts are scattered on an unearthly wind:
what call to battle do these, my weapons, heed,
if from worlds apart I speak, and they can hear?
In my breath, I command. And none other,
except what I raise and drop to the table,
will respond.© 2013 by Nicholas Roberts – Used with permission
Smell of potpourri
My garden
which is not dry
and does not grow outside
blooms in vibrant shades
of graphite and ink
and the smell of fresh paper
and I would think it as a dream
if it were not for those
who harvest it just the same
with me.
© 2013 by Nicholas Roberts – Used with permission
Nicholas Roberts
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