"disappearance" poems
to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.
to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.
to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
*be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit
give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration
so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction
more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying
speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them*
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
A best friend is someone you tell secrets to, right?
But what if it were the same person to hold you at night?
As the sun goes down and the stars appear,
It's that someone whom you tell your biggest fear.
Your dearly beloved, whether a guy or a girl
Suddenly becomes your whole world,
And you laugh and you sing and you dance all around,
As your best friend twirls you round and round
And in the truth of the morning, everything is okay
You see that your beloved is here to stay.
Holding you tightly and never letting go
All during the disappearance of the moonlight glow.
And it is them you want to spend the rest of your life
Alongside them, your dear husband or wife.
And 70 years after you said "I do"
You manage to say one last "I love you"
Then you'll drift away to a heavenly sleep
With the one who you love so deep.
And eternal time you will spend together
With your dearly beloved, always and forever.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
You were as stealthy as a slow gas leak, by the time i knew i was in love with you, i had succumbed to you. You were in the drivers seat of my car lighting a cigarette with the windows up so i could breathe you in. I quit smoking so your secondhand smoke was all you would allow. I watched as you brought the cigarette to your lips and dragged in as if your life depended on it. It was your third one today and i told you that you should stop, maybe breathe me in for a second. Do you know what i would give to become second hand smoke from your lips? All you would have to do is kiss me and i would vanish into thin air, become a noble gas in the periodic table but there is nothing noble about the element of disappearance. I have been shrinking away from you ever since you held my hand in that convenience store a year ago. I'm trying to convince myself to get over you because all i am to you is someone to **** slowly through your second hand smoke. I never knew I could get so addicted to nicotine until it came from under your tongue. When you're gone, it's hard for me to breathe which doesnt make sense because when youre here my lungs are filled with your sweet black tar. But you will be gone for months when you leave in two weeks. You said you'd write to me, but written words can't carry your second hand smoke. You can't build a home out of a human being, but that doesn't mean i cant find a home in your bed.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
A widespread condition
related to nutrition
is lactose intolerance
that is in essence
the inability to digest and assimilate
the milk sugar-lactose-the substrate
that is acted upon by lactase-
the specific enzyme
over a period of time.
This may happen suddenly
and generally
at any age most unexpectedly.
Lactose intolerance
is caused by the absence
of the enzyme lactase
that breaks down lactose
to the simple sugars-
glucose and galactose.
The condition may be
secondary, congenital,
or developmental.
Secondary lactose intolerance
invariably has its occurrence
related to a gastrointestinal infection
and its disappearance
is linked to the causative factor’s correction.
This type of intolerance-
(certainly a nuisance)
is reversible
if we are a bit careful.
Congenital lactose intolerance,
an inherited form of intolerance,
is a rare genetic abnormality
that one can unearth
soon after an infant’s birth.
This need not cause any fear
as it lasts only half a year.
Developmental lactose intolerance
also known as primary intolerance
is one wherein the enzyme synthesis
is progressively less
during childhood
and this persists into adulthood.
Gita Ashok
24/10/2011, 2 pm
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
The saying is "Always live your life in the fast lane."
But how can I do that if my life has faded like smoke through a keyhole?
It is blank like a notepad on a little girl's desk.
The girl who is constantly bullied for the Bell's Palsy that consumes her face.
The notepad that sits on her desk that she has ripped pages upon pages upon pages out of.
Pages that read words that are thrown at her everyday.
**** ***** ***** loser.
Pages that have drawings of her and that one guy she longs for, but that one guy longs for her disappearance.
My life is like that blank note pad.
The only thing it retains is it's last message telling the world "Goodbye."
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
At some point in time
she grew tired of thinking,
tired of feeling.
She couldn't leave the earth
for the sake of the ones that she loved.
Her pain enveloped her.
She hurt in silence.
Silence was her way of screaming.
Crying for help.
Hiding away,
Wishing,
Hoping,
Praying -to a God she nor accepted or disputed-
Just waiting for someone to notice her descent.
If one person could be puzzled by her disappearance it could have made a difference.
She laid in the darkness for days.
Day after day
She watched the time pass and
h o p e d
that it would soon be over.
She
w i s h e d
that someone would stop her
She
P R A Y E D
that her heart would stop
Her pain and the darkness enveloped her.
Tired of thinking.
Tired of feeling.
She just let go.
She drew back into herself and began to drown.
Sleeping, dreaming, imagining
A better life,
A significant existence.
Not thinking about important things,
Not feeling what there was to feel,
Barely existing.
Seeing that she had been let go of, she stopped
Waiting-
Wishing-
Hoping -
She stopped praying.
She no longer cried.
She became the darkness.
She became the silence.
She enveloped all.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:14 AM UTC
No thought can grasp this
ocean we enter
in Holy embrace
together.
This Placeless place
echoes a memory,
unseen here, only Love
carried in waves of light.
Fingers soft as petals of Lilly
lifting into infinity, touching gently,
with the delicacy of a Lover
bound by Heart to the Beloved.
In Reverence you reach
to meet the unseen song of no-thing
as the One Heart opens, revealing
fragrance mimicing the fields of Heavens on High.
Sharing the feast of Heart
boundless, awake
waves of intoxicated bliss opening This
as He decends upon, as your lips.
Dancing under moonlight
no eyes can see
delighting in poem
no words can speak.
The ocean sings of Silence
to the ship longing for shore
washing away all sense
of "two", all need for "more".
We, ever becoming
take off on a star heading for Truth
and leave the sleeping and waking
to the dreamers.
The Lover's destiny
is the union Absolute,
following the inevitable, miraculous
disappearance of the universe.
Ocean and waves voyaged in Mind
become worldless Void
You and I,
Boundless, Unborn Love
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
You died too young
Your angels' voice
Your deep deep sorrow
Don't you know how I need you?
You left too soon
Your wicked heart
Yourdrunk drunk love
Don't you know how I need you?
You are from the black gold era
Black is for your melancholy
Gold is for your inexpressible soul
You said goodbye too young
Your golden tears in the paradise
Your rousing heartbreak
Don't you know how I need you?
You passed away too soon
Your mysterious disappearance
Your breathless dream brother
Don't you know how I need you?
You are from the black gold era
Black is for your melancholy
Gold is for your inexpressible soul
You fell asleep too young
Your American breath
Your rootless trailer trash
Don't you know how I need you?
You gone to glory too soon
Your curly dark hair
Your heavenly muse
Don't you know how I need you?
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy
~~~
the divers’ recovery, diverse,
shipwrecked salvage from different locations,
auctioned to the highest bidder,
tho the excised excerpts are exceptional,
none come to do the bidding,
for the provenance of words
belongs to all, and to none
~~
“so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction”
“the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few,
like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am,
evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings,
how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty
to love the crafted content of our human essence to better
comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared
words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule,
becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit”
“murmur me, with soft downy charms,
these words discovered
recoursed and intended well to
pointedly offset and contradict
their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering,
tear tongue me
with calming, lapping word wages,
hymns harmonious and fine homilies,
a call, a request,
a bequest
to sedate my shrill life
“some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally,
aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes,
making me speak in tongues I do not recognize,
but fluently possess, no wonder there,
the memory place fairly empty,
room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery
of the vaguest of dearly departed
skin is not the only mot shed,
sloughing of woeful words”
“speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor these words at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them”
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
I look up at the starless sky
Without the stars who should be there
Sharing this moment with me
This moment that hold no significance
While I look, I miss the sky
I miss the stars
I miss the light they provide
All that’s left is the moon
All alone that poor moon is
Glowing in the dark
When it should be glowing in the light
Just like me, alone when we should have others
I feel the moon’s sorrow
For I feel the same
The empty sky is no place
No place for either of us
I wonder what happened
Those poor little flecks of light
One day here
The next day gone
Not a single word was said
About their disappearance
All forget about them
Except for the moon and I
Every night I would look
Waiting for the stars to come back
To see the moon no longer alone
To see the sky back alight
Every night I would look
And ever y time I would despair
For the stars are still gone
And show no sign of returning
I hear the moon weep
The man on the moon weeps
The tears silent
But the sorrow is deafening
After eons passed
The stars did not return
I waited, and so did the moon
Finding comfort in each other’s presence
There are some nights
When the moon is gone
And the sky is dark
Missing the moon
I detest those nights
Fearing the worst
That the moon had gone
And joined the stars
My fears never came to pass
For the moon would always return
At first a sliver
Then it would all be back
Even in the darkness of space
The moon kept it bright
A single candle in the darkness
Burning ever bright
I went out one night to see the moon
That was my reason now
For I knew the stars were gone
But the moon was still there
And on that one special night
I realized with keep insight
That not all the stars were gone
That one was still left
For the moon was not a candle
But a mirror
It reflected the light off another
The light of the Sun
I told the moon what I figured
And the moon was joyous
For not all the stars had left
The Sun was still there
And armed with that fact
That one star was still there
A glimmer of hope rekindled
And I knew what I had to do
I said farewell to the moon
It knew what I was doing
I left for the sky
To bring back the stars
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 8:00 PM UTC
It is tonight
That I realize
For the first time
I am starting to forget you
I am beginning to mix up pieces of the past
Like undated polaroids
In a box that is too big-
I am not quite sure
Where exactly they fit in
I don't remember
Your laugh very well
I can only vaguely recall your smile
I see it in updated pictures
But it is not the same one I knew
It is not the one that spent hours
Folding into the crook of my neck
Or humming against the curve of my spine
The smile I see in pictures
Is different
The lips belong to someone
I am unfamiliar with
Someone I have never kissed
And the once clear snapshots
Of our moments
Are now shaded over and blurry
My biggest fear
Used to be losing you
My biggest fear now
Is being unable to
Remember you
To have you stripped
From my consciousness
It is the reaccuring nightmare
That wakes me suddenly
In the midst of comfort
I fall asleep to the same songs
You used to sing to me
But I don't even know the words anymore
There is nothing more terrifying
Than realizing
You are moving on
Nothing more frightening
Than realizing you have to
Eventually
But I don't want to forget you
I don't want to embrace
Your disappearance from my thoughts
I don't want you to evaporate
Like the rain we used to sit under
With our hands open
To catch the remnants of summer heat
I can still smell the air
And feel your warmth breath on my cheek
But the reality is
I am starting to forget
And I have never been more scared in my life
This is not about
Letting go
This is about how memory
Has the ability to shed its skin
It has been so long
That I am starting to forget how yours felt
Against my own
Your marks and your scars
Your freckles
Used to be my territory
I knew exactly where they stood
But now your body is a map
I no longer know the coordinates to
I used to take that path home
Every single night
But now I cannot even remember
The route to get to your house
You are slipping through the cracks
Of my fingers
And there is nothing
That can be done to prevent it
I super glued them together
As tightly as I could
But closed hands aren't good for much
I wonder if the people
I pursue can taste you
On my tongue when I kiss them
I keep you in my mouth
Even if the sweetness is gone
I don't want to erase you
Completely
You are fading like the end credits of a movie
I have watched too many times
I am trying to change the plot
But I know that it cannot be done
And realistically
You have been away
For quite a while now
I would ask you to stay
But my mind has already shown you the exit
Most of you
Has already left me
And tonight I am wondering
If someday the rest
Will leave too
Tonight I am hoping
That if it does,
It won't be anytime soon.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Freedom of the things that shake me
I'm still stuck in the things that chain me
The hurt that broke and changed me
My heart breaks as they stare at me
Selfish and selfless
Broken and stolen
I drown myself out as I scream from the cage
I choke it down and add to my rage
Help them to save myself from me
It's so hard to be what they want me to be
I stay in my head controlled by my exoskeleton
Encased in a suit of skin that isn't mine
It's scars aren't my own
The voices whisper my disappearance
Cutting me and screaming
Hurting me and crushing my being
Six feet under or walking the earth
What does it matter if it always hurts
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 3:17 PM UTC
1
Screams in the night,
Sleeping all day.
Yelps of pain,
And cries of anger.
****** torture,
Mind disruption,
Soul disappearance
Tears in the light
Screams in the night.
2
Terror through and through,
Scared thoughts of pain.
Living in sadness,
Then despair,
Life drained.
Dark appears.
Nothing left.
All taken and blue,
Terror through and through.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
*** a knife in my chest,
Not a day I rest.
My anxiety is too high,
I have not a clue why.
They threw a book at my face,
And expected me to work at their pace.
All of a sudden work became too much to handle,
I sit in mental agony, trembling with a melted candle.
it seems unjust, unfair,
To now have me decide; to fully care.
I am baffled as to why there was a requirement,
I feel trapped inside an isolated environment.
Did they ask about my feelings?
Did they wonder what I knew?
Did they care I favored my abilities over theirs?
Did they realize this much is true?
The book beside me is relentless,
It motions for me to work day after day,
But I sit there with stress raging over me,
Will I be okay?
I try and I try,
To greatly improve in this never-ending book of lies,
For an outstanding score,
And the disappearance of my sighs.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Dissappeared as if a dark cloud decayed the body in a matter of miliseconds and disposed of it somewhere unknown. Never did I see a single sign of being psychologically sick. Not one piece of evidence to prove her existence. Multiple memories of her wither away slowly. No discernment to the delphian disappearance. Very vague memories of her, perhaps she was a vision. Maybe, just maybe my imagination had gone too far with my mind. No! Her disappearance was real; but due to her irrelevance, and exodus she was forgotten in the conscious mind of others. Maybe its time that I finally forget about the phantom that haunts my memories, and makes me question my sanity. Gone she is, and gone she will be. So the acknowledgment of her existence is Irrelevant. She is now, and forever has and will be nonexistent. -V.H.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
across the pond,
I lived off the diet of
some 55 year old bachelor
racing towards the past
only, I looked forward to
so much more than
my mother's improved health.
I would find books and read them
laying them vulnerable and bare
to my devouring mind. *(I swear
to god, there's an approachable
Minotaur among my grey matter.)*
I skipped Barcelona with an alcoholic
to research gay fascists and history's
slaughter benches. I hand-wrote that paper
just so I could feel something at work besides
strong coffee and false anxieties about projected moments.
I raised my hand, countless times
in foreign classes with tobacco residue
creased to my sheet paper. While others
slept or day-dreamed about the pigeon **** outside
*but I smiled at the professor, & mommy and daddy sent them
capitalist notes with the appearance of life.*
I met a girl, who got to know me through
all five senses, at once. Speaking more languages
than half this world is aware of, I danced til my flight
departed and I knew which city was my favorite, because
I knew nothing of it going in and having no expectations
opens me like an oyster whose made multiple pearls.
I lost my scarf there, in Italy,
a beautiful one with conversational brilliance
falling to disappearance on my final night, after the rains
of Tuscany had drenched away my need for movement
and the winds of Ventotene had me sailing with
men, I knew nothing of. *After I cried on the floor
over the beauty of Hegel and Marx and fell into
Nebulae of epiphanies.*
across the pond, my life had verve.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
All along while you were sleeping
beneath the gaze of a missing moon
a light was lost, left us questioning
a sunrise too late? or a sunset soon?
There came tears, downward streaming
it’s disappearance remained unknown
only howling wolves remembering
the night the moon, left the night alone
They blamed dawn and dusk for stealing
none dared to dream another dream
all through the night of restless sleeping,
weeping was heard across the stream
The night lamenting in search of light
The wind blew lanterns flaming high
the day was to be spent to make it bright
by flicking fire to burn the sky
till silver ripples appearing on the bay
there a moon settles from a journey far
returning home and on its way
from the funeral of a falling star
Jan 27, 2022
Jan 27, 2022 at 2:11 AM UTC
Emptying one’s wallet for the family fee,
Joining in linear solidarity with the crowd,
Dripping profusely under the blazing sun,
Creeping forward as if slower than a snail.
Arriving at the moving beast’s head,
Receiving envious glances from the tail,
Stepping boldly forth at last,
Following instructions.
Strapping oneself into place,
Shooting forward like a rocket into space,
Spinning endlessly until quite dizzy,
Screaming with sheer delight and fear.
Dropping back to earth,
Speeding faster than a thought,
Leaving stomach far behind,
Enjoying the absurdity of its apparent disappearance.
Exhilarating, yet much too short,
Seeking to repeat the thrill,
Joining the waiting horde,
Staring impatiently from the queue’s tail.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Here comes the shadow not looking where it is going,
And the whole night will fall; it is time.
Here comes the little wind which the hour
Drags with it everywhere like an empty wagon through leaves.
Here comes my ignorance shuffling after them
Asking them what they are doing.
Standing still, I can hear my footsteps
Come up behind me and go on
Ahead of me and come up behind me and
With different keys clinking in the pockets,
And still I do not move. Here comes
The white-haired thistle seed stumbling past through the branches
Like a paper lantern carried by a blind man.
I believe it is the lost wisdom of my grandfather
Whose ways were his own and who died before I could ask.
Forerunner, I would like to say, silent pilot,
Little dry death, future,
Your indirections are as strange to me
As my own. I know so little that anything
You might tell me would be a revelation.
Sir, I would like to say,
It is hard to think of the good woman
Presenting you with children, like cakes,
Standing in doorways, flinging after you
Little endearments, like rocks, or her silence
Like a whole Sunday of bells. Instead, tell me:
Which of my many incomprehensions
Did you bequeath me, and where did they take you? Standing
In the shoes of indecision, I hear them
Come up behind me and go on ahead of me
Wearing boots, on crutches, barefoot, they could never
Get together on any door-sill or destination-
The one with the assortment of smiles, the one
Jailed in himself like a forest, the one who comes
Back at evening drunk with despair and turns
Into the wrong night as though he owned it-oh small
Deaf disappearance in the dusk, in which of their shoes
Will I find myself tomorrow?
2.3k
[voicemail]
hello, father
It's your daughter.
This is the last voicemail
I've decided to ever leave.
I'm been having some difficulty
in thinking that I'll succeed.
It's been a while but I'm not
here to catch up and reminisce.
I simply have a story to tell and basically it's this.
I started when I was fifteen.
Single edge blades for shaving.
I had found its other use
and the feeling was amazing.
Father where've you been?
The answer doesn't matter to me.
I've grown up and all the cuts have
lead me to bleed out my empathy
and letting scars heal with a special
layer of apathy.
You want to know what it feels like?
I stay up way past my bed time.
One mark before I start the climb.
Dark thick liquid that feels like slime.
Slow. Steady. Make the
motion last a lifetime.
I wonder what life
would be like without me
and honestly my disappearance
is what really makes me happy.
I've always really want to tell you
that even though you haven't been
here I think it's still okay to say
I love-
[beep]
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:55 AM UTC
Im sorry you had to walk all the way up
now and then, i wonder:
whats the world gonna be like when
*your heart stops pumping with compassion
and reality has lost sight of you*
i don't really know but
i think that
I'll never synchronize
to anything that brings me to my last day
when will i have i to lose?
----------------------------------
cold creamer in
my coffee.
the steam, slowly deteriates &
before my eyes.
prior to its disappearance
i got a quick and
shallow glance
at the scrauol as it is lifted
into the air
sublime was the way then
in the murky November vapor
I love what i have
and all i have is giving me
hindsight? zero to 100 percent . epiphany.
some call it sin of gluttony
im loving how much i am feeling it
nasty cold december is tempting me
and I'm needing a bit more rest
than the amount you have given me
but i didn't even think about leaving
* i am loving my stay*
-----------------------------------
not the intellectual property of i but instead cherubs drifting in the past
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
Everyday I wake up with the storm in my chest
No, you don't know nor understand
I am okay or somehow I look okay
My mind is clear,
My heart in turmoil
The knife in my hands ready to stab my heart out
I am exhausted, yet I want to ****
End not your life but mine.
I am ambitious
Sinner for her ambition
Deserves nothing but a life sentence
Behold, the disappearance of my presence
Eyes are watching.... judging...
Do I deserve their piercing gazes?
Probably.
I've let down the people in my life,
The ones that really matters
Now, I am surrounded of booming laughter
Thy name, hold up to shame
Ridiculed for trying to achieve a star so far
I should have known that it's impossible to fly.
This suicidal note is not for you
It is for me, for I need to calm my nerves
For I am holding the knife that is ready to rip my heart.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
The way the world sways. Every leaf left
in place, its stance chiseled to each blade,
an iteration of time; each tassel of seeds,
thy bread, thy handmaiden;
as breath on the brink of disappearance,
becomes a wave become water; proportions so
large so as to stagger the seasons—
one winter questioning another.
We listen. We listen as if musical ***** are tracing a
giant sine wave across the dark mud flats.
We watch it as if a rotted rowboat, its oars like two hands
at prayer, is signaling a gesture
of permanence towards the sky. The grass
has turned from gray to blue to green.
The tide washes in. A bell is rung.
It’s as if the merry-go-round has turned it’s calliope on.
What Lao-tse has said is true.
The earth is a bellows. Use it.
The grasslands bellow and glow.
©Jim Kleinhenz
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC