"unloosened" poems
The fortunate I,
The send-sighted me,
What might have I done
To deserve this to see?
That inchworm in paining,
Though pretty she was,
Has set to cocooning,
In endless becomes.
Such books, she has heavy,
Her heart so it spins,
That silken word cover,
With lux-journal skeins.
Such passion in weaving,
She'll fuel open minds,
And full will this artist,
Soon her medium find.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 10:42 PM UTC
night falls. space slackens.
falling into common placeness, the realness
of quotidian moon.
.
a love for the metastasis of minutiae.
a hand on the cold **** pale like the dead.
the tombs of fingernails. creases for
delineations of Earth. clenched, evening.
unloosened, bare as morning.
hand in hand, twilight.
.
outside the house, a figure.
things stir in the persistence of silence.
the flagrant irony of hearing cacophonies.
a part of the world that becomes a kin.
say, without light and the dimensions of
things, no shadows display in grayscale.
listening to the cancer of the avenue:
the continuing tachycardia in the edge
of things. things that pulse or flatten.
the mind, in your passing. the heart in your passing. respect this chronology.
likened to the metaphor of beginning
an immediate and forever turning of the body when trouble meant togetherness,
and consolation, simply remembering.
.
there is a deconstruction in sleep.
the alterable garment of dream. or a flower
revealing its inflorescence.
the blackred hemograph of petals, the accuracy of thorns, the tabulated geography
of its stillness - something it that does not completely practice. the constancy of the wind breaks its mimesis.
.
outside your house again. the undesirable quake in the monotony of your dog, Oliver, chained to the stilt of the house that does
move anymore.
the absolute quiet of the street foreshadows the variegated Dieffenbachia.
the color of my palm, starting to green.
i could be anything within your presence
as the moon intensifies the plunge.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
"WELL, WELL. . !"
Under the night's
sodium lights
I watched my shadow's
shadow
trying to keep in step
with the flesh and blood me.
I unfastened time
:- all hooks and eyes -:
laughed as unloosened
it floundered in a drain
as my mind made
its escape
( not tied to this
body or to me
free to wander
amongst the falling rain
hide in the space
between sound and sound
become one thing
- one thing only -
becoming now
- all things -
But see the rain ceases
to talk to itself
and I hooked up time
:- moment to moment -:
so that it resumed
doing what it ought to.
The last train of thought
had already left.
A moon lay asleep
in a tiny puddle.
I stepped over it
careful not to disturb
its slumber
a busker played
AROUND MIDNIGHT
as if we were
in a movie.
"Well, well..!
I tell myself
"Well, well!"
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC