PfS Rises Again

Here we go. Day one of college, and I've decided to resurrect this puppy. Leave comments, as always, even though you never do. Without ado:

Beginning to Live in the House of Sleep

There is a space between the shimmering plane
Of gridded bones
And the deadened wall
Of severed fibers
Where our breath, silent mist, seeps and curls to a cloned and bright facade
Where identical slabs and identical doors
Barricade our fellows -
Our fellows!

This army of strangers,
These sneering eyes,
They claim our own and fell? How can they
Beside their shapes
Attempt to know and spell
Our histories, our fortunes,
Our lusts and longs and nears?
And yet we must instruct them, while we ourselves our taught
Not of spheres and paths and books of slang
But of the families of familiars that our shells have wrought.

And our misty breath mingles, amidst a hall of statues,
Each of the same form, and yet
Of different shapes entirely.

Ben Finkel
September 29th, 2007