By Amy Simone Piller
To build skyscrapers
higher than possible
means quickly
erect
pursuit replaced by speed
skylines
no thought of sunset.
By Amy Simone Piller
To provide the illusion
of a larger room.
To increase the flow
of natural light.
To escape
the room
(without actually escaping) it
still
sitting inside
stuck
behind
a window.
By Amy Simone Piller
Tiny winding staircase
rarely scaled.
The occasional tourist
Searching for something other.
Temporarily
untired
from aspiring
to reach higher.
By Amy Simone Piller
I.
Three walls and a sloping roof (sometimes tacked on).
The reverse of a peninsula (a hat).
Shelter enough (for a snack).
An add on.
Invented space,
made of parameters.
II.
To lean on
as opposed to stand up.
To relax
in contrast to continuing.
To float
instead of treading water.
III.
To see
as opposed to analyze
To be
in contrast to competing.
Lean-to joy
to gratitude
to mercy.
By Amy Simone Piller
The image of a dog
comes to mind
cold, wanting
for supper,
or the secret that stays
your eyes
post jack-in-the-box
renewal,
demise
the inside-outside
dichotomous desire
to fulfill
(accompanied by the useless
mechanics of wanting
toask—
an assemble it yourself kit
missing one critical
washer).
A three
fights gravity.
Images spin and twist
your already flipped vision.
Appreciate the vaults of cohesion
and the way space intervenes.
* A counterweight outside the building.
By Amy Simone Piller
Where is my steel reinforcement
I plea brittle and needy
of an architect
to determine
my maximum capacity.
Why am I not an elevator?
My worst fate then
could be plunging
to a scrap metal lot
where things just creak
and no one talks.
By Amy Simone Piller
I am the keystone
(of four parents
an isosceles arch
parts
diametrically opposed)
where my psyche dangles
from vital voussouirs
and when they battle
I decay.
I wish I were a limerick
so there was
a clever solution.
By Amy Simone Piller
Take a bite
all teeth in.
Challenging
senses
to slowly explode.
(You can handle more
than you ever know
just by taking a few risks alone).
Sit back,
Relax,
the house is not on fire
(our mouths soon
will fill with flame)
when we go under cover
love one another
no sense
too intense
our dreams
unincensed
in trusting spice
never fades.
* Beware what you touch
(afterwards).
By Amy Simone Piller
A picture is made
(like sand leaves a hand
in a rush).
Fits and decisions,
triggers and deliberation—
why does what spread where?
How can you
contain that thought?
The marks you make
stay
pieces of paint
permeate permanence
particle by particle
paving
towards the future.
Flecks of kindness
chips at cruelty
patience
pursuit
etched
in each moment
inked
(nothing wasted).
By Amy Simone Piller
There’s this face you make
when you play—
the world has gone
away
your eyes
an unfocused lens
seeing a part of the picture
we cannot.
You become
the sum
of a child affront the television set
plus actuality
(seduction and fulfillment combined)
transfixed
a system inexplicable
to those not neurons
running in your synapses.
Oh to be a string
reverberating
in your passion.