Table of Contents

Soaked in rays of happenstance sights


If the Sun will Rise again Tomorrow

To Give and to Receive

Intentionally Unsweetened

Perceived Mentors

Stop Eating Me I’m Only Skin And Bone

You Were Born in my Memory

Dust Covered Windows

Before the Season Ends


Pouring Wine

Helium Balloon

Old Hand Holds Hanging Lantern

Evan Buckiewicz

I'm a writer, web artist and doll artist.



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If the Sun will Rise again Tomorrow

When I say that the sun will rise again tomorrow

I mean that I will have trust in the stability of my horizons;

what I see is only what the light touches;


if (it’s true that the sun will rise again tomorrow):

let my faith be a sprawling oak,

with perennial roots and slow purpose,

a canopy spread wide;

touching the light;


Otherwise if (induction is not reliable and

symbols will change their meanings):

let my faith be a creeping vine,

with tendrils that extend and latch on,

what once meant secure might now mean release;

the light will touch a path’s edge at least;


Or else:

my faith is but an empty hull,

prepared in anticipation of conditions never met;

what the light touches and what comes from it next

I am neither able to remember or forget;