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Mike Essig
Mike Essig

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Published in

thewrytr.

·Pinned

“Dance Me To The End Of Love”

“Though lovers be lost, love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.” ―Dylan Thomas Moving towards death, he abandoned love like a single glove. Once there had been time for everything. Lust and desire, two types of fire. Women, lovers, Muses, he opened like an explorer, not only their lithe legs but the wild generosity of their willing spirits. He wanted to cherish them. He wanted to please them. He could not stay with them.

Poetry

1 min read

“Dance Me To The End Of Love”
“Dance Me To The End Of Love”
Poetry

1 min read


Published in

The Junction

·Pinned

Aphrodite’s Smile: 1971

She sits on the rocks in a demure bikini, smiling up at me from half a century ago. Her smile says: it is good to be 19, the whole future an endless vista, and the ferocious vigor that makes up first love. A sudden epiphany. I am transported back to that sliver of time. A lifetime evaporates. Not memory, but real Being. I feel everything that was, as if I am right there again and no time has passed.

Poetry

1 min read

The Smile Of Aphrodite — 1971
The Smile Of Aphrodite — 1971
Poetry

1 min read


Pinned

Nocturnal Remission

Death dropped by last night. I never expect him, but he was lonely and I was available. What’s up, I asked. Same old shit, he said. You have no idea how hard this job is. Absolutely no one wants to see me. Ever. Must be lonely. Lonely, he said, you…

Poetry

2 min read

Nocturnal Remission
Nocturnal Remission
Poetry

2 min read


Pinned

The Girl Who Knocked: A Drama

He was six days home from war when she knocked on his door. He had been contemplating suicide. Sworn to secrecy by law and strange spooks with dead eyes, he couldn’t tell her that. Whatever wounds he had suffered were his to bear alone and would be for many years…

Fiction

2 min read

The Girl Who Knocked: A Drama
The Girl Who Knocked: A Drama
Fiction

2 min read


Published in

P.S. I Love You

·Pinned

Poetry And Sex

Poetry, like sex, momentarily destroys the misery of the world. Like an exquisite orgasm, for an instant, you disappear into it, released from the mundane now.

Poetry

1 min read

Poetry And Sex
Poetry And Sex
Poetry

1 min read


Published in

The Junction

·Jan 12, 2022

Awaiting The Word

What’s up Doc? When you are living your normal boring life, you don’t seem to notice how the time flies by. While awaiting a diagnosis, amazing how it slows. Even your threatened breath moderates. Light days grow darker. It takes longer to go and longer to get back. Each morning a surprise. The calendar stutters and forgets to advance, but clocks circle faster. You want to know and you don’t want to know.

Poetry

1 min read

Awaiting The Word
Awaiting The Word
Poetry

1 min read


Published in

Other Voices

·Jan 9, 2022

Things I’ll Never Get To Do

Tempus destruit spes nostras. Become an archeologist. Master Greek and Latin. Build my own cabin. Apologize to all those I’ve loved and harmed. Read all the books. All. Win the Cross-fit games. Figure out what women want and whisper the secret to Freud in his grave so he can finally get some rest. Learn to juggle. Really. Write just one, perfect poem. Forget that unwelcome war, at least the bad parts. Be stalked by a cassowary. Converse with an Alien. Ever make it to India. Hug my unborn grand-children. Defile Richard Nixon’s grave. Travel to outer space and manage to get home again. Waltz with a Duchess in Vienna. Achieve Satori, then lose it.

Poetry

1 min read

Things I’ll Never Get To Do
Things I’ll Never Get To Do
Poetry

1 min read


Published in

The Junction

·Dec 24, 2021

Anamnesis

praeteritum est praesens The scars of a lifetime describe the essence of whom we have been. Life devolves to what is lost. Eschew slogans; admit the inevitable. Time does not read self-help books, nor care about your positive thinking. And 70 is not the new 35. Ghostly images crowd your head, reduced to evocative reminders: faded shades: lovers, people, homes, places, things you owned, impalpable but in recollection.

Poetry

1 min read

Anamnesis
Anamnesis
Poetry

1 min read


Published in

Changes: On Aging

·Aug 22, 2021

The Road Does Not Go On Forever

In America, a license and car represent freedom. That’s why young people can’t wait to get them and older people fear losing them. I used to be a fearless driver. If I wanted to go, I just went: night or day, whatever weather, just a map (before GPS), little thought…

Aging

2 min read

The Road Does Not Go On Forever
The Road Does Not Go On Forever
Aging

2 min read


Aug 18, 2021

Saigon/Kabul

History rarely repeats itself in the details, but sometimes events are amazingly parallel. Such is the case with the debacle currently ending in Afghanistan. In 1955, we began to equip and train an army (and even an air force) to defend itself against “communist aggression.” Because our “poor little ally”…

3 min read

Saigon/Kabul
Saigon/Kabul

3 min read

Mike Essig

Mike Essig

11.9K Followers

Honorary Schizophrenic. Recent refugee. Displaced person. Old white male. Confidant of cassowaries.

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