Cordova Behind Us

Cordova Behind Us

Eight of us transcend into something more

Beyond which the known provinces could finally stop lying about

Taste of river fish on our tongues

Berries packaged by the quadrillions in lockers below

The course set out before us by those who would not join

Mathematicians with their stencils frightened by an aggregate

Disobeying angles and physics found mostly in labyrinths

A cautionary tale waiting to be passed down among generations

It’s dark, it’s light, it’s always some mixture

Difficulties catching your breath as the mechanisms pump

Though easy enough to breathe when focused on a unified task

Surprised beyond measure to learn stasis reeks of stale marshmallows

Everything in circular formation from the moment we wake up

Bending a knee meant less when it ever meant more

Tablets conditioned to soothe with dynamic frequency

It’s heavy, it’s light, it’s always some mixture

Utmost is expected because we tested to know better

Eight minds tasked to become one

A filament ignites and the federate quashes in chorus

Squawking pigeons deliver direction transmitted by automaton

Home; a new home; our new home

Years in the making, decades to discover failure

None detected so none could ever resist feeling foolish

The parchment written a thousand times over since Ulysses

Floating On sold to us in the same false manner as Fighting On

Now closer to everything that we all eagerly once pushed away

Ransacked and ravaged with each pulsating neuron

It’s bleak, it’s bleaker, it’s always some mixture

A.M. Pfeffer


A.M. Pfeffer resides in Los Angeles, has been featured by The Good Men Project, and his memoir OF, BY, AND FOR THE HANGED MAN was published January 2019.

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