S.R Wise
I started seeing,
Faces on the walls of brightly 
Lit bakeries serving golden pies

Hair entangled in the clouds
Like blue intestines digesting
The truth I could not process.

Then I started seeing,
The sun beneath her ribs
And entire cities in her breath

And the stars in her eyes
As if I had telescope eyes 
What I found scared me

Now I only see what’s in front of me
I’m still adjusting
To knowing nothing.

Sam Wise is a writer, saxophonist, and philosophy student living and writing in Montreal, Quebec. His poetry is raw and unrestrained. It concerns love, death, and the pursuit of spirituality and harmony. You can find his latest work in New note mag, VEG mag out of Mcgill University, and Quibble literary magazine.



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