The Philosophical Faculty Journal

Category: Ninge Engelen

  • A Poem I Can’t Remember Writing

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    by

    Splijtstof
    in ,

    ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Of a thousand dreams before, I thought, they wereonly remnants of desires—latent in tree stumps, street corners,pigeon roos over my roof, white sheen of canvas openings intothe blue sky—⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀All of my maniacal memories burst like shotgunpomegranate bleeding synapses flesh—broken matter betweenmy brain halves—amyloid proteins popping—stowed from visionconsciousness—impressionist gaps between Brooklyn Heightsand Today—

  • Images

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    by

    Splijtstof
    in ,

    I looked around and saw all theWindows and trees and hairdosBrick, recemented, old, differentHeights and browns and entrances,Rusty bikes; the Mediterranean groceryThe organic butcher, Turkish Barbers,reaching corners, drinking tea in hourglassesIn front—and knewThat all of it would not reach the other endof this poem.The cold stairs were mine, the days,the years, the cats on the…

  • Poem

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    by

    Splijtstof
    in ,

    ⠀⠀⠀⠀In the dark crème living room and the brown crooked streets outside⠀⠀at night—⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the numbers keep shooting up⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀on the yellow television screen.