Poetry by Carson Pytell
One cannot always see them.
They are there,
Whether distant or near:
Invisible and occupying
Scrolls or vellum or laminae,
Or kitchen floors or family rooms,
Occasionally found or discovered.
If on the way through dense forest
Or town or to the refrigerator,
We’re always walking paths.
Some tracks sunk into mud,
Some raised from marble.
About the Poet
Carson Pytell is a poet and short story writer living in a very small town in upstate New York. His work has appeared in Vita Brevis Press, Literary Yard and Leaves of Ink.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.