Elisha Meir Aaron
Bio:
Elisha Meir Aaron is a young American poet with few publications; in 2018 he was awarded the Mona Elaine Adilman Poetry Prize of McGill University (Montreal, QC, CA). He currently works as an editor for a nonprofit which works to promote democracy and human rights globally. He loves riding his bicycle, and if you would like to get to know him better, he suggests that you share with him a delicious pourover coffee and candied walnuts.
A creature. Never once wild.
With an opaque disguiserunning through each sun’stide, ebb ebb ebbing aftera pattering of desperate stepsto strike watch watch watchon the night scent. Day smellssafer than night. The teemingsweetens the air. Full, the fieldsbeckon each footprint droppedbehind. A setting for lies.
Each day enormous. Tallerthan tree trunks. Each dayanother instructionfor living. Step one:believe in the creatureand its naked habit.Step two: the goldenedstory-endings happenwhen we question.
It won’t end though, will it?The stories say it will. Yesterday’sstories say it ended yesterdayand will end some tomorrow.It won’t, though the stories sayit will. The unchangingstories, unreaching beyondour silly voices, footsteps.
Fairy tale carbon footprint.Carbon fingerprint. We’ve runfrom the night’s glee-smell. Stuckday’s story lived in night. Sleep.Close your eyes and transformyour dream fantasy into gluedripping from your tongue. Stickyour story on each living thing. Glueit onto their lips so they can say ittoo. See how they breathe, mouthspasted, while you make a fairy taleof your carbon footprint.Carbon fingerprint.
Each day enormous. Tallerthan tree trunks. Each dayanother instructionfor living. Step one:believe in the creatureand its naked habit.Step two: the goldenedstory-endings happenwhen we question.
It won’t end though, will it?The stories say it will. Yesterday’sstories say it ended yesterdayand will end some tomorrow.It won’t, though the stories sayit will. The unchangingstories, unreaching beyondour silly voices, footsteps.
Fairy tale carbon footprint.Carbon fingerprint. We’ve runfrom the night’s glee-smell. Stuckday’s story lived in night. Sleep.Close your eyes and transformyour dream fantasy into gluedripping from your tongue. Stickyour story on each living thing. Glueit onto their lips so they can say ittoo. See how they breathe, mouthspasted, while you make a fairy taleof your carbon footprint.Carbon fingerprint.
