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Wil Kavi

Wil Kavi

Cruel and beautiful

I cried again today,
and I did not die.
I even know why
it is I cried today.
Because the truth
so cruel and beautiful,
bled upon my sorrow,
so to stir and flush
long welled up tears
into the endless river
and forever out to sea.

(2013)

1
Piaciuto o affrontato da...
Altre opere di Wil Kavi...
monkey shines

1998.... while touring india.... exploring the town of rishikesh a popular hindu pilgrimage site along the banks of the holy mother…
 1
Still running

From the first remembered breath, I was running to escape. I didn’t need a map. It didn’t matter which direction. It hurt too much for any fool to s…
The nameless ones

I’ve howled and raved and ranted at all those whom I could name, in search of peace and freedom from this ancient seething rage. But still there lingers bitter bil…
 2
Let me out of here!

I see no reason now to disguise this naked heart and soul of mine. You can hide there
Moth to the flame

Everything he has ever been taught alerts him to avert that dancing f… What is it then that demands he mu… proceed towards his certain fiery… Some deep and ancient voice within
It is me

It is me. I am stripped down to my most naked intentions; having worn so many coats and less than noble guises.
 1
No way out but in

Been wasting away in this hovel for too many days to count; wishing, hoping, scheming, sometimes even praying, for any way to get out.
Solitaire

You play your cards so well. Looks like you’ve had a lot of pra… You seem to have a thorough grasp of all the rules of the game. As you cover every angle,
Where I end

I’ve been so afraid to speak these heartfelt words. This secret has been kept so well, from myself, by myself,
 1
Ghost-white death-mask

Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise
Abandoned

My beloved, she has abandoned me. What’s left is a stark white canva… that repels application of hue or… Hopelessly, I gaze into the bleak… She is gone,
 1
How are you?

How are you? The maiden turned and whispered soft, her turquoise eyes as deep as time.
 1
I am hurting

I’m not angry with you. I am hurting, and as usual, I don’t know why. I don’t know why I cry
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It did not happen

I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.
Time

Time wears away at me, like water on a stone, oh, so slowly, but inevitably, drop by drop,



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