Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

j.g.lewis

  • any given day

    You begin to understand, at a certain age, 
    it is not about understanding everything.
    It doesn’t make sense, any more, any less, 
    but becomes easier to understand 
    or accept. Nevertheless, 
    in this realm of limited-time offers and
    best-before dates, coming of age seems right. 
    Come what may, give or take, 
    to trial and error, it no longer matters, now, 
    who wasn’t there. Destination straight ahead, 
    on a certain date, in a certain way, 
    you carry any range of emotions 
    more purposefully, on any given day. 
    Often you have more to say, yet wisely choose 
    whom you repeat it to. 
    Every day is not the same. 
    Glimpses of yesterday rarely appear. Anyway. 
    This was the tomorrow we looked forward to.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

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  • cloud songs

     Often it is the promises 
             that will carry you 
         through uncertainty.
    Perhaps spoken in confidence, 
         even to your self, the words 
         allow you to see, 
                 or to dream, 
                                a little further. 
    Uncertainty can provide 
            an element of hope 
      or, true to the word, promise.

    © 2016 j.g. lewis

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  • 3:37 a.m.

    I wake. 
    I wake often at 3:37. Desires inspired 
    in Illuminated darkness
    and hunger.
    I want ice cream
    with you.
    Half asleep,
    wholly consumed, vacant dreams,
    your voice shows through.
    Unusually delusional.
    Familiar image,
    tussled hair,
    threadbare kimono
    and comfort.

    Quiet.
    Front stoop shadow at 3:56. I show up
    with ice cream and excuses. 
    You with questions, and
    sleep in your eyes.
    Silently nothing happens.
    Lawns hiss, lamppost shines on
    streets bereft of motion.
    Come closer.
    Dreadfully dead humidity 
    and well-weathered wicker
    leaves an 
    impression on
    bare legs.

    Hush.
    You stultify my banter, caution me not 
    to laugh so loud or I’ll wake up 
    the neighbours.
    I tell you I don’t care 
    who hears us or 
    who sees us 
    through this heat.
    The ice cream 
    is melting. 4:24, 
    you take 
    the spoon and the last mouthful
    dribbles down
    your chin.

    Compulsion.
    Not caring, or even daring, that neighbours 
    might find you on top of a shadow 
    naked 
    on the front lawn at 4:37.
    Ice cream tub 
    discarded on the grass.
    Liberated illumination.
    Spoon still 
    in your 
    mouth, you are
    radiant
    and dripping 
    on me.

    © 2017 j.g. lewis

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  • we could learn

    It is the perception of a lifetime. 
    Even as they fold and wither, as 
the stem bends under the weight 
of their beauty, the colours lose
their vibrancy, and petals fall with
time, flowers remain a miracle.
We could learn a lot from flowers.

    © 2022 j.g. lewis

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