It seemed so much as no new and uncommon thing
that what passes on as only a disappearance,
is but a temporary postponement of something
long withheld in feelingfulness, in treason of one’s
desire or simply, a hand which is there, or kept in a pocket
scouring for loose change, a hand which, somewhere,
is known in accurate proprioception: refusing to be held;
I swim against the current not
for the water behind your river
that dreams of fish
I wake not underneath the bowl
of moon slated by sensorial howl,
whose wounds are white like
a face once held in between palms
and sleep almost endlessly, together
with everything that twitches, slewing
to avoid collision, alliterates to blur meaning,
sways fervently to addle meeting
until we let loose a sigh, and unfasten ourselves,
dropping pace and both our eyes meet.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
It seemed so much as no new and uncommon thing
that what passes on as only a disappearance,
is but a temporary postponement of something
long withheld in feelingfulness, in treason of one’s
desire or simply, a hand which is there, or kept in a pocket
scouring for loose change, a hand which, somewhere,
is known in accurate proprioception: refusing to be held;
I swim against the current not
for the water behind your river
that dreams of fish
I wake not underneath the bowl
of moon slated by sensorial howl,
whose wounds are white like
a face once held in between palms
and sleep almost endlessly, together
with everything that twitches, slewing
to avoid collision, alliterates to blur meaning,
sways fervently to addle meeting
until we let loose a sigh, and unfasten ourselves,
dropping pace and both our eyes meet.
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