27 November 2016

Meanwhile, back at the ranch

This blog is not "moving" strictly speaking, but recently I have become a creator for a student-run newspaper called the Odyssey Online. For a newspaper, I write very little news (nothing's news to me) but if you want more posts of the thoughtful/philosophical bent you are well-advised to find them here, at my very own corner of internet real-estate! It's called "www.theodysseyonline.com/@dokupil". I've already created quite a few figs for your mental consumption, and new content comes out every week! You can also follow me, which benefits the both of us, because you get to stay updated, and I get to have five followers instead of four.

I will still be cranking out content on this blog, but it will probably lean towards more creative and experimental writing like poetry and fiction. And possibly art. So stick around and leave comments, so I know that someone reads this.

Stay beautiful,
-The Minstrel Boy


17 November 2016

Unbound

I had a dream that a thousand books were crashing down on me
yellowed, dusty hard covers that had aged and aged like wine
pages torn from their spine, come to the end of their line.
I braced myself for the overwhelming wealth of words
fluttering fervently with impending proximity
but as they hit my head,
they turned into birds.

they brushed past my cheeks with swift and silky lightness
(some blue, some yellow, some red)
but their talons did not scratch me
and the multitude of beating wings
engulfed me in a whirlwind of breezes
from all directions, the air was thick
with the vibrant spectrum of feathery colors.

every bird (that was once a book) was different,
shimmering with every splash of ink the book once contained
and contained no more. Each was singing
the melody of a story that had at last escaped words
the masculine became males, the feminine, females
and not a single melody felt wrong or out of place
amidst the wild warble of primeval music.

the sound itself I could not understand
but the sheer concentration of urgent energy
caught me up within it and had
me shivering with excitement, excitement
for I knew not what, but it did not matter,
for now I was one of them, dancing, singing, (flying?)
who could say, playing my part
in a four-part symphony larger than life.





And every word was set free
From the tyranny of words
What every word had wished to be
Before it became a bird.