Four poems by Edward L. Canavan

[the teeth of time]

by the end

all just ash

and bone

the leavings of life

left to the wolves of never

as ghosts set the vessel alight

to sail across the river

freed

from the hourglass

at last.

*

[stardust and snake oil]

tagged and taken

everything has a price

from impetus to apocalypse

faith foreclosed

for a better deal on death

saviors for sale

as peasants scramble

for pennies on the dollar

futures bent on destruction

pasts burned in effigy

presence drained

of any spark of joy

we’ve come from the stars

only to die in the gutter

broken and damned.

*

[quotient of inquiry]

away in the ether

between body and mind

chasms of static

and interference

anchored by the weight

of unused things

sick days and notebooks

postcards and candleholders

and the ponderance of wonder

if intimacy

ever makes us

anything more than

strangers.

*

[crossing twilight]

as the hill begins to crest

beneath the dark stars of destiny

there will be less to put away

as the nights take whatever

the days do not

the only life is to offer all you have

while you still have it

after that

it’s just a numbers game

and you don’t need

to be a mathematician

to figure out the odds

against immortality.

*

link to Edward L. Canavan's YouTube

Edward L. Canavan is a Los Angeles poet whose work has most recently been published in Ink and Paper, The Opiate, Literary Underground, and the Anti-Fascist Anthology Silence is Consent.
His third poetry collection titled Skeleton Flowers was recently released on Cyberwit Press.
Born and raised in the Bronx, NY, Edward currently resides in North Hollywood, California, where he practices Buddhism and is currently listening to Quicksand.