May 2016
Ad astra
1
From the city I know you were from,
building up the perimeter in summer – it was plenty searing.
Must when I found the town already, triggered and almost accomplished,
searchable signs for searching parties involved like grass on the lawn,
scraps on an empty lot – when in summer it got very hot
and your salt smelt of the sea crushed in between my territories, start the word.
Flesh deems it so in frame, walking with us this very evening crafted
by a waking remoteness.
2
When it rains, build this city from here on – relieve it of its terrors.
The memory of an old cathedral being burned down to the last cross,
the volume of prayer genuflected within pews, or anything that was hieratic. Rain in the
afternoon was what your entire ocean meant to me, crossing its span of promise,
sure of its weather. Rasp the skin tight like gears fine-tuned. Borrow its heat when
it drizzles. Do you remember my face when you pass by familiar pavements, stalls,
hospitals drenched in prognosis? The even flutter of a bird? What does this question seek
but your truth – like an elastic map stretched to infinite directions.
3
Here is where you were named darling. Taut your name had it belonged to someone else.
Sharp were your features. Your definitions smooth. Your textures visible with difficulty.
When you wore denims rising from the cuff of your knees you showed
me a blotch and other fraternizations. Moles as variables. Your body as graph. My senselessness,
somewhat a trying delineation. Thousand fingers mesh altogether to formulate rescue,
mind a garden of salvage enough for two. Or underneath the sphere of a body,
neither rain nor sun could stop to flourish me completely. Yourself full of
symmetries – the universe cut inside and out, trimmed to lasting – ubiquity, inhabiting the temporary.
I transact with this darkness yourself containing light, like a window to your home
when you’ve moved on to a different continent, I myself staring right into as if the whole space,
in search for a singular glint I could make up for a cluster
to make an elusive thing such as you walk backwards, from the entry, just before the guardhouse, to meet me.
1
From the city I know you were from,
building up the perimeter in summer – it was plenty searing.
Must when I found the town already, triggered and almost accomplished,
searchable signs for searching parties involved like grass on the lawn,
scraps on an empty lot – when in summer it got very hot
and your salt smelt of the sea crushed in between my territories, start the word.
Flesh deems it so in frame, walking with us this very evening crafted
by a waking remoteness.
2
When it rains, build this city from here on – relieve it of its terrors.
The memory of an old cathedral being burned down to the last cross,
the volume of prayer genuflected within pews, or anything that was hieratic. Rain in the
afternoon was what your entire ocean meant to me, crossing its span of promise,
sure of its weather. Rasp the skin tight like gears fine-tuned. Borrow its heat when
it drizzles. Do you remember my face when you pass by familiar pavements, stalls,
hospitals drenched in prognosis? The even flutter of a bird? What does this question seek
but your truth – like an elastic map stretched to infinite directions.
3
Here is where you were named darling. Taut your name had it belonged to someone else.
Sharp were your features. Your definitions smooth. Your textures visible with difficulty.
When you wore denims rising from the cuff of your knees you showed
me a blotch and other fraternizations. Moles as variables. Your body as graph. My senselessness,
somewhat a trying delineation. Thousand fingers mesh altogether to formulate rescue,
mind a garden of salvage enough for two. Or underneath the sphere of a body,
neither rain nor sun could stop to flourish me completely. Yourself full of
symmetries – the universe cut inside and out, trimmed to lasting – ubiquity, inhabiting the temporary.
I transact with this darkness yourself containing light, like a window to your home
when you’ve moved on to a different continent, I myself staring right into as if the whole space,
in search for a singular glint I could make up for a cluster
to make an elusive thing such as you walk backwards, from the entry, just before the guardhouse, to meet me.
