outstanding

i do not research the words's etymology,
for it might steal it's magic from me,
you take me to different places different nights,
in shoes that hold eyes that see those sights.
that I cannot, though perhaps commonplace,
they are
out standing of my welds experience

so i, we, are voyeurs to a moment of humanity,
and i am out side, outside my body, in your visions,
out standing, near by, by words, moved by words,
composed outstandingly…
and now under~standings achingly transport me to
where you have been/seen  
and send us

This room breathes without me,
not loud, but suffocating.
A hush that hums
like static behind the eyes.

Time forgets me here.
Clocks melt into the walls,
and the walls lean in,
whispering names I no longer answer to.

I wear silence like a second skin,
tight and damp,
stitched with threads of
“should have” and “still not.”

The mirror won’t meet my gaze.
It flinches.
I flinch back.

Outside, laughter is a foreign tongue.
Inside, I speak in sighs,
in the language of
unbrushed teeth and unopened curtains.

Hope is a rumour.
A myth told by sunlight
I haven’t seen in weeks.

But still,
somewhere beneath the rubble of thought,
a pulse.
A stubborn throb.
Not joy. Not yet.
But breath.

for those in peril on the sea

plays each morning steadily.

fingers tap the sounds, the words,

little ideas readily.        wore rags,

ate off broken plates before

it was screened.

yet i bet this is not a first,

not really our idea.

so we keep on mending, making, pray

for those at sea.

Round and baby smooth
Before the heavy lessons
Now more gold than globe

Earned geography
Topography in bruises
Ridged in blue and black

Fault lines and canyons
Shining yellow Kevlar-filled
Stronger in the cracks

But this recent dent
is a gut-aching crater
that wobbled my world

So, I wait for healing gold
And grow stronger from repair

the guttural sound of grief cleared its throat
all forgotten will be recovered
in sentiment
sentient emotion
evocative cries
the river dies at the ocean and reincarnates
so it is with words and poetry
a recycling to circle back
a replenishing to continue filling
prose be the restitution of cosmic karma
dust reclaiming its birthright

                               everything
                                                                                everything
            everything

I've heard verses set against verses
for the sake of thrones
dust says
                 verses are the natural material of power
decanted led
                         purified gold
a heavy mineral
the foundation of understanding

art cut its ear
and the heart still bled
red   -   blue   -   violet
a primary mixing you can feel
without senses
     listen with bone and marrow
     see what shakes the sinew
     taste the transience of life       in living color
      orange and yellow and green
     smell the salt, it lives in you
     evaporates through goosebumps to be felt by others

you can write yourself to nirvana
if you go through the stages
  if you shed enough stanzas
   if you surrender       and accept