My Neighbour Came Home Today
Inertia, my neighbour, came home today
and soaked his house in petrol.
Joy is a liquid, he said
through a broken smile before
spitting his teeth into the stars
and striking a match
From silence to staccato
crackles the house roared.
A loose fray on my sweater danced
and glimmered as limbs streamed
into smoke, listless in the air
spinning through spider webs
and filling the container of the open sky.
The ground leapt up,
striking me, and wet limp leaves pasted
to my teeth made my mouth taste like a fountain
full of pennies, without the gift
of wishful thoughts.
All that lingered
between my jaw was a taste of blood
from biting my cheek
Life on a Giant Anthill
My mother used to say,
we lived on a giant anthill,
a swell of land
plagued by tiny insistent insects and we,
unwillingly shared their address.
My father used to say
they couldn’t think,
they were just small machines
exploiting our house
for their own personal canteen.
And as our lights grew
littered with their corpses,
glowing husks in the lambent glass,
I began to wonder why
their boundless metropolis pulsed
beneath our grass?
Neil Frank is a 4th year student at the University of British Columbia. Born in and raised Calgary, Alberta, Neil has also attended school in the United States and the Great Britain. Neil spends majority of his time writing music, poetry, and reading. Neil’s favourite show is The Wire. It is so good that he decided to include it in his biography. Neil would recommend you check it out if you haven’t seen it.