Contemplate the smooth

surfaced speech,

frisk the word,

stride, run,

fall to overhear

the dried rustle,

a keyboard presses itself.



The bell rings,

the cat wafer,

arid pudding,

drive deep

on the artery,

jelly rushes

out from the bush,

clings, map to life.



The tones,

metronome tink,

how do I call for you?

a word fitted freshly,

airy curtain pounding,



collecting crossroads.



Names are myths

to be released,

wrench them out,

feet hang on

the wooden floor, the

painted oaks spoiled,

elusive reed

rubbing the tip,

may the licorice cup

cease to be called,

thumb strikes

a calling in, a lift

a touch,

a noise


by extraction.



Afternoon proceeds

itsy bitsy gray reflections,

antsy dots settle

preserve or react

the froth,

name of some


on tired eyes.

the vital spirit.



Benedict Downing


Benedict Downing has written fiction, poetry since his adolescence. He joined local community reading circles, workshops, college literary groups, and ventured into his own. Has published in literary journals like Poetry Life and Times, Danse Macabre, Belleville Park Pages, Crack the Spine, New Plains Review, and The Sentinel Quarterly. He is currently working in his second novel, and other projects. There are two published books written by Mr. Downing. A poetry book “Sidereal Reflux” (2011) and a novel “Epicrisis” (2014).



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