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Still Life with Stoneware Jug, Wine Glass, Herring, and Bread

from A Sea Become Winged by Vesper Moth

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poem by Jason Byron

I wandered without aim through life
With neither goal nor aspiration
And though I never found my place
I enjoyed my bout of respiration

I bore my youth as it grew
Into the miasma of adulthood
And as it stretched its shadow far
The Star fell down, the Star call’d Wormwood

A bitter taste fill’d my throat,
My mouth, it burned with bitter fire
I threw my burden down in a rage
And threw myself down to expire

I expired not, my life flows on
(Though not in any one direction)
My body aches with the weight of years
The perfect weight of imperfection

From night to day to night again
I gyre as a thoughtless stream
Here and there and in between
I pass my days in idle dream

A still life painting sang to me
One afternoon twelve years ago
I imagined what beauty the artist saw:
A scene inspired, a pointless show


from A Sea Become Winged, released November 11, 2018


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