3 Pieces by Nicholas Klacsanzky

Subway Window

The best time I had was when I forgot myself. I don’t know why I ever came back.

the subway car window
shows only darkness . . .
and my reflection



I can’t figure out if mysticism is ecstatic or a sham. I go between Sufi dancing and wanting fame. Not everyone can sleep in the sand.

than emptiness:
our first name



I have never been on hard drugs, but it seems like I am. The cacophony of conversations in the cafe melds into my thought process and my mental silence. I thought I was high on meditation this morning, but I guess coffee can cut through inner calm, despite our idealism.

rain or snow?
I remove myself
from myself


Nicholas Klacsanzky



3 Pieces by Nicholas Klacsanzky

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