Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

Wish 7

Beside the cell,
a sign.
It’s elfen lies
tucked under strokes
and crossbars.
The law a
font of wisdom
and denial.
They’ll barbeque
our thighs
and wing off
‘neath the hill.
To sing of loss
and sauce
beneath their nails.


I like these recent titles. Sometimes dissassociated from the piece or linked vaguely. In the rest, they’re absolutely crucial. If nothing else, this has been an interesting experiment for that reason.

Because I’m really picky about my titles. When they aren’t present, you can be sure that I thought about the piece and felt that one would only distract. I wouldn’t simply number my work. I’d never just use a line from the body. A title should always modify or multiply or, much more ideally, subvert the theme entirely.

Effervescent 31544

Agrieved, the fever
shattered glass.
Mercury surpassed
our atmosphere’s

A silver box dispenses
locks and friendships
strung on spanish moss.

The heat’s effects, severe,
souls sequestered in a sphere.
Questions scraped
our throats.
I broke…

Carpet 4

We crossed a thought,
becoming more,
bridged the rot
that should have
fueled a pyre.

A crashing voice
cut under our approach.
“Never to launch,
never to land,
never a castle
on the sand.”

We started at the thought,
and glanced beneath
for comfort.

The journey’s hope
Your shores
are cliff-faced.

He only wants a moment,
just a smile played on your lips.
He doesn’t understand what made you,
he doesn’t know that porcelain can only crack.