Photography © by Tammy Ruggles from RSR Featured Art
I won’t see Occam
Cut himself shaving. He
Hides his bloody tissues and throws away
The razor. My face is in the window my
Face is covered in small equations.
I won’t know that dialectics will blur
Into each other, that even our
Idols have puss in their search histories.
My face is on the screen I paint my face
An ugly color. All other answers are too
Sinuous and convoluted. I’ve given up nuance. I’ve given up
Debate. But when logic and reasoning fail,
Who will feed the neural plants
Who will give the animals water
Who will bathe and dry the poems,
Those small creatures
On which so much depends?
Luke Roe is a father, student and worker residing in the Pacific Northwest. His poems have been featured previously in Red Savina Review, Wire Harp, Uut Poetry, Haiku Journal and others. He has poems forthcoming in Angry Old Man Magazine and Washington State’s Best Emerging Poets. He was RiverLit Magazine’s Poet in Residence for 2015.