The Fat Poet

The Fat Poet

Themes

The poems gather into a handful of recurring themes. Follow whichever one sounds like the hour you are in.

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  • The Proceedings

    The Proceedings

    Later he spoke truthfully about grief, and the walls themselves seemed embarrassed for him. Someone coughed. Someone closed a ledger. No one looked him in the eye again. After that he learned procedure. A man must drag himself through life without allowing the chains to make noise. He must bleed internally. He must decay in…

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  • Where We Meet

    Where We Meet

    We met where edges soften and names fall away. No yours, no mine only the quiet between that keeps widening. A small gesture becomes a doorway. A glance, a whole sky. What we call love is just this the dissolving of distance we imagined was real.

  • Laughter Between Us

    Laughter Between Us

    I have known silence with many. Heavy silence. The kind that asks to be survived. But with you even silence smiled. And I think of this often, how some people arrive not with thunder but with a laugh that makes a place feel warmer. It is a small thing, laughter. Men say that. They are…

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  • Summons

    Summons

    Sometimes I think we have met already in another arrangement of sorrow, where the stars made no accusations and time did not feed on itself. Here I answer only in silence. What else is left when love arrives as an apparition and asks to be believed? Your voice reaches me from the side of existence…

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  • The Cabin

    The Cabin

    Days passed without measure. I stopped counting them. The noise in my head did not leave at once. It fought. It circled back. It tried to make itself important. But the woods are patient. They do not argue. They outlast.

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  • Late

    Late

    I only stand here now, in this small crossing of lives, aware that I am late, but not lost. Because something in me recognized something in you as if the universe, despite its endless distance, still knew how to bend two separate paths into a single moment.

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  • Masha

    Masha

    I do not come with clever sentences or the language of certainty. I come only with the small trembling truth that appears when someone begins to matter.

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  • I Was Not Expecting You

    I Was Not Expecting You

    I wasn’t expecting you, to find me when I was lost in thought, wrapped in my own solitude, content with the silence that had grown familiar, only to have it broken by the sound of your laughter, a sound that now echoes through my heart.

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