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Philip D. Hughes-Luing

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Member Since: Feb, 2012

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· Bliss: A Marriage Proposal for Charles Stephen Hughes

· From Particles & Disputations: Writings for Jeff, a book of hours

Short Stories
· Attack of the Oil-Based Enamel Black Paint

· Trama Sintesi: Shishi e Demfelas

· Deliver Us, O Lord

· Hughes-Luing Wedding Vows

· Time Becomes Easy

· Designing Us

· My Music Man

· Sixth Anniversary

· Quantum Theology

· Location Unknown

· Toiletries

· The Satisfaction of Years

· Simplicity

· Bliss

         More poetry...
· IR Review of Bliss: A Marriage Proposal for Charles Stephen Hughes

· A Letter In Support of Marriage Equality

· Review: From Particles and Disputations: Writings for Jeff

· AIDS: Partner Pushes To Remember Those Lost

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Books by Philip D. Hughes-Luing
  at a loss
by Philip D. Hughes-Luing
Monday, February 27, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Philip D. Hughes-Luing
•  My Music Man
•  Time Becomes Easy
•  Designing Us
•  The Satisfaction of Years
•  Simplicity
           >> View all 11

This is a prose poem I wrote during the early years of AIDS.

at a loss

Time without word coming, I'm waiting through a few more moments of void; dropping into the ashtray are stories aborted, willed distractions.  This kind of pain must negate language, or we'd have common words for it by now, like anxiety, only more specific.
Where the spine joins the head, tightness, throbbing tension, unrelieved, caged, caged, implosive words unsaid, we are losing the sense of it, we are losing -- alone, finding myself alone, I, finding myself alone, I, sat for a chat? No, I, bereaved expatriate talk is of how we were, people define our definitions, take us away. Finding myself alone, I observe, an inability to concentrate, effect, dispose, communicate, connect with particles of ideas. Nothingness makes sense. I can tell you about this pain he feels, and I cannot touch it, this throbbing tightness where the spine joins the head, these too many thoughts filling the brain, seeping out, spoiling, poisoning down the neck, turning muscle into a meaningless, ineffectual nothingness I fear I am speaking now to those who wondered what I meant by my not saying. Newly conversant with death and loss, I discover a whole new litany of unresolved rage, amen.


copyright 2012, Philip D. Luing
all rights reserved 



For Future Release: Via Obliquities

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