Celeste Regal observes life from marginalized pasts. She uses epigrammatic statements to establish an environment of loss and redemption. Her work using the codex form employs nontraditional substrates infused with image and text.
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
Thinking
I could go mad here
my first world soul lusting
for American necessities
while my country dances
Fires burning
deluge after deluge
not suggesting the enormity
of our present predicament
We often ignore the obvious,
distraction being preferable
to more thoughtful tidings
Foolish pastimes clogging
the airwaves
with books unread
messages undigested
lies told, promises broken
Naysayers trampled in this
unearthly light
Stiff-faced malcontents
gesture obscene codes
destroying cohesion
Infection spreads across
waves of grain
My people, oh my people
your shrunken hearts on spikes
at the gates of eternity
Chests caved in
Sick melodies fill corridors
as the world's derision lace
unkempt summer lawns
Glowing molten
near the yard of no trespassing
sirens distort your thinking
as the ship heads
toward hidden disaster
Cruelty blinds deaf fortresses
guards long gone
bubbles bursting eternally
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