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#pandemic The squares in Savannah are haunted and for good reasons. Conclusion: The poem touches on the ghosts of those we've lost to Covid. Static Screen I always take rooibos with milk and honey a calm swallow soothes my throat unstiffening my toes helping walk a straight path Twice, I tripped along the way into my office The mask string unbalancing my act to remain cool and collected after meeting their ghosts regrounding thinking of the flowers inside the vase back in Savannah springing colors. Wisps from the garden then, thoughts of Asian Murder Hornets stinging my face mass killings of millions of bees, of honey, of hope sabotaging simple pleasures in a cup which runneth over with horrors of head lines going out of the way to sell doom gloom I pilf the switch inside my office drifting thoughts back at home which explodes with colors and a tiny bowl of fruit. Juicy "Virus gossip" whispers a coworker. The plums tumbling I am back in this grey painting betraying worries of whether or not I squeezed enough sticky alcohol onto my chaffed and worn hands the smell is putrid numbing my brain fading to black and white and finally glowing at Whitefield Poem by Maggs Vibo, 2020 An invisible sickness was spreading throughout the buildings. Always my mind returned to Savannah and the history surrounding the Yellow Fever which infected many lives. The folk horror and many haunted locations in Savannah stay within"  Comments are closed.
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DEAR READER
Welcome to my literature, music, and visual poetry project. My blog represents a method for deciphering the fragments left behind in the Anthropocene. Writers use ashes as a metaphorical device in storytelling. Have you ever wondered about the symbolism of ashes? Archaeological fragments of tablet, papyrus, bone, scroll, and pottery are recognizable the world over. In our digital era, however, our lost folkloric works disintegrate into dust. In this sense, I consume the silver flakes and use my he{art] as a vessel to rise from dystopic wastelands. I share lore through the oral tradition. Ashes to Ashes we continue on ∞ to infinity ∞ We are ash. We are stories. We are star dust. We are eternal.
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February 2023
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