by Daniel Romo
Toeing the line between stillness and seeking allows for too many clouds to be pondered. Each trace of vapor is a repressed inhalation suspended between sky and supposition. The fog is most dense at the expense of denying the existence of the sun. Telling one to hang in there is neither practical nor poetic, unless there is an equally unforgiving common ground; what’s good for the goose is good for the demander. Living vicariously through any fellow man can result in regression of steps, even for the most empathetic of revisiters. Traveling light doesn’t account for lugging around heavy hearts and history. Memorizing the most painful dates doesn’t require the use of flash cards. No shortcuts can be taken to reach the point of forging on and forgiving yourself.
[Daniel Romo is the author of Apologies in Reverse (FutureCycle Press, 2019), When Kerosene’s Involved (Mojave River Press, 2014), and Romancing Gravity (Silver Birch Press, 2013). His poetry can be found in The Los Angeles Review, PANK, Barrelhouse, and elsewhere. He lives, bench presses, and rides his folding bike in Long Beach, CA. More at danielromo.net.]
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