Breathless-Erich Michaels

My latest at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. “Breathless”

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

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You left the room

The vacuum you created

Has me raking at my throat

I frantically try to draw in air

I look around and it seems

I’m the only one struggling

The only one who even noticed

That you’ve gone

My hand reaches out

To your point of egress

And all I feel is bitter cold

Biting at my fingertips

I’m losing consciousness

My outstretched hand falls

My now limp arm lies next to me

The warm impression you left

In the couch cushion

Is felt by the back of my hand

Then the smallest of streams of air

Finds purchase in my throat


Erich Michaels describes himself as  “just trying to share the human experience.”  He has a bachelor’s degree in creative writing, but find himself writing SOPs (lather, rinse, repeat) in order to make a living, which can be detrimental to the creative process.  You can find…

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Stepping Stones

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These stepping stones that I jump to

Throughout the span of my life

Form an outline of a part of me

Balancing on one foot I look back

This set of stones is the story

Of me and women:

 

 

Her name was Patty

We met at the instruments closet

She told me I was her boyfriend

I obeyed and met her behind the curtain

Timing my days in kindergarten 

By these rendezvous 

 

 

I ran home from the neighbors’

My friend’s sister who was much older

French kissed me when I was like eight

I couldn’t wait to tell my mother 

 

 

At school a girl I did’t know

Who acted as though she knew me

Asked if I was drinking my chocolate milk 

I was going to, but I gladly handed it over

 

 

My first “girlfriend” 

I spent hours talking to her on the phone

I felt a connection

Then I told her about the changes

Of how my body was maturing

She broke it off

 

 

I went to a party

They played Spin the bottle 

A girl I liked spun the bottle to me

We went in the closet

The idea she might’ve actually wanted

To kiss me was so nonexistent 

That I thought I did her a favor

By making kissy noises through the door

So she wouldn’t have to

 

 

I sat out in the cold for hours

Scoring two tickets to Beastie Boys

I asked my crush if she’d like to go

I told her I’d score some weed

She agreed to go

After the concert she made up an excuse

Of why she needed to go

Taking the joint with her

Like a chocolate milk 

 

 

My first was with a girl who transferred 

Into our school to get away her reputation 

I later heard that she had taken on

The entire football team

I loved her enough to be so broken by her

When she dumped me for a guy with a car

That I blocked her name from memory

 

 

I made out with a girl

Who was really good at it

Her dad had taught her

After her mom had passed

I still wonder about how she finally

Made her escape

 

 

I had a one night stand with a girl

Who resembled the girl from the concert

That was all the reason I had needed

 

 

I was in a relationship with a woman

Who was old enough to be my mother

I was just happy to feel wanted

 

 

I married a woman who is strong

Who I’d gladly give my chocolate milk to

Who I’d meet behind the curtain with

Each and every day

Who loves reality tv, 

Is an extrovert, that drags me out…

Out of my head

Who doesn’t like public affection 

Who rarely likes private affection 

Who is very critical of me

But beneath all the hard exterior 

She loves me

She needs me

And I am happy

There are no stones to jump to from here

Darkroom

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Even with a zoom lens

You are one layer removed

From the subject matter

No longer a participant 

An observer 

No longer an ingredient

You are the glass 

It’s plated beneath

Your eye

Behind the viewfinder 

Profane and probing

A voyeur with a kinship

For the beauty of symmetry 

The rule of thirds

Conforms nature to mind’s grid

The moment falls into place

The finger depresses 

A piece of the divine 

The soul is pinned

A butterfly in a shadow box 

The amorphously ephemeral 

Anchored to synaptic syne haptic 

Lucid moments of clarity

Adrift on a fog covered sea

 

Chant

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I think that when I’m picking at self inflicted wounds, channeling the dead, dying and dishonored, feeling the full weight of the world’s apathy upon my chest, and bleeding it upon the page…that I’m at my most sane. In fact, I would say that it is during those periods when I sleepwalk through life, filling a role, swallowing back the acid at the rear of my throat with a smile, and become a living currency, an end to a means, that I’ve slipped into an oubliette of depravity. Sublimating the curses and tics of universal verity bubbling up from the magma of my bones is the original sin, that can only be abated by chanting a prayer older than any Hail Mary’s, or Nam-myoho-renge-kyo’s. I am here for but a moment. Allow me to love you, to be loved by you, and to be remembered. I am here for but a moment. Allow me to love you, to be loved by you, and to be remembered. I am here for but a moment…

Symbiosis

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She strips me bare

My soft belly exposed 

Vulnerable 

This is where trust grows

From bud to bloom

Venerable

She straddles me

Maintaining deepest eye contact 

Inseparable 

She howls with her mother’s tongue 

I am immersed in matrilineal sorrow 

Utterable 

Crimson nails dance along my sternum

With speed and precision I’m splayed 

Sufferable

The cracking of ribs reverberates

Parts never meant to see light, exposed 

Discoverable 

And now she is inside of me

Her hands cradling my beating heart 

Containable 

She whispers in my ear her pain’s origin

Darkest demons vomited from soul’s well

Considerable 

I am drowning in her depths

The deeper, the colder, until heart freezes

Irrecoverable 

I begin to ebb beneath her…diminishing 

Her hands suddenly massaging my heart

Incomparable 

Resurrected by her touch

The fragility of my life in her hands

Amissible 

Speak your truth and purge your pain

I’m here as long as you hold my heart

Paradisiacal 

Self Addressed Stamp Envelope-Erich Michaels

My latest piece at Sudden Denouement! Self Addressed Stamp Envelope.

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

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There are paths I walked in my youth

Enough times you might still see me there

A needle stuck in a groove

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

This is my life [tick]

Stop and tell me my future

Stay and read my leaves

Tell me that despite

My widdershin path

That I’ll be all right

If I don’t believe you…make me

I wrote a letter to that young wanderer

Using my address from that time

Across the top: Erich Michaels (adolescent)

In it I said:

Yes…she will break your heart, but…

Enjoy the ride

Also, don’t block out her name

She deserves better than that

That tattoo will be a regret

Not just because it’s needle and thread

Bottle of India ink, prison-chic

But because it doesn’t represent you

Have a little more fun in college

Yes, grades are important

But, so are friends

You’ll…

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Sudden Denouement Publishing Releases Composition of a Woman By Christine E. Ray

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Sudden Denouement Publishing is proud to announce the release of Christine E. Ray’s book Composition of a Woman.

“Poet Christine Ray’s first printed collection of poetry, Composition of a Woman (Sudden Denouement Press, 2018) is a striking, fearless foray into the psyche of womanhood, both highly relatable and intensely personal for female readers and achingly candid and fascinating for male.”
Candice Louisa Daquin, Pinch the Lock

Composition of a Woman is now available at Amazon.comAmazon CanadaAmazon Australia, Amazon Europe ( Amazon.co.ukAmazon.deAmazon.frAmazon.it, and Amazon.es,) as well as other major retailers.  Signed copies are available in the Sudden Denouement Etsy Store

Composition Of A Woman - Christine E Ray - CS.indd

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Marathon

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I’m tired. Wondering if this marathon is worth it. There are moments of happiness but these bittersweet, pixie stick, sprinklings don’t make this dead horse I’ve been beating taste any better. I need these motions I’ve been going through to have a sense of novelty, or this tin man is gonna start waving off the oil, and let the tears that always seem to be just at bay flow until the rust sets in. But we are what we do and I’m just a lumberjack who, as a child, dreamt of seeing the stars—thanks to my mom and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. No matter how fast or hard I chop these baobabs I don’t clear any sky. Even the mightiest of oaks bend to the will of the wind over time. I think that’s how I ended up here. A steady northerly. Now I’m a twisted bonsai on someone’s mantle and I’m trying like hell to drown out the screaming birds that inhabit my tree felling dreams. I’m just wondering if the promise of a new day is adequate payment for today’s indignities—if this marathon’s finish line is worth the effort. So many have went from tired to retired to expired in short order, but that’s the carrot they dangle. Carrots help you see in the dark, which might be the key to dealing with your golden years. I hope, by then, I’ll be able to shake the chill that’s settled in the marrow of my weary bones. 

Chaos 101

Chaos 101 by Aurora Phoenix. I think I just experienced a paradigm shift. I’m wonderfully stretched.

Insights from "Inside"

the carpet writhes underfoot

teeming with the detritus

of a thousand lurking

cocooned selves.

what say you

gritted, behind furred teeth

in the soiled stomp of a footless sock?

do you revel in my eye roll

as befits your snakebelly

stature?

I read the note you left me

scrawled in wet mayhem

and you giggle as I trip

you sketch me

a blood lipped evil queen

while you hashtag

#self-destruct

napalm all your bridges.

I hold a flame

‘neath the lemon-juiced shreds

decipher the heartsore longing

hurled in domestic anarchy.

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