Three Poems by Connor Orrico

1

there is war in my head —
no romanticized
valorous triumph
just terror and violence
and no place to go home to,
nowhere to rest my head;
within the noise
I search for words
to carve meaning
from darkness
but i am lost,
wearied by the night

2

My thoughts are goblins,
my thoughts are gorgeous,
and sometimes they go
where I cannot follow,
shrouded in a language
hidden from me —

3

the past is cool rain
in which children play,
the present a fog
that disorientates
to a fictional future,
darkly unknown
or unreal till the story
we write is our own