through gentle vehemence, i guard
my innocence. without it, i'd not be
able to speak so freely within the
inarticulate. a seizing haze. imagine me
into existence against time's tyranny
and obdurate dogma. make me real
in ways i fail to realize for myself.
imagine my secret moments, my private flux
through surplus and deficit of spirit.
my ordinary instant awash in music, dancing
unconscious, self consciously brooding, falling
in love, aching
across morning. Now
imagine all this
taken, turned to dust,
suspended for a moment
in the sun
filtered
through glass,
then caught -
dispersed
across
borrowed breath.
nothing except memory's smooth gasp
steadied void, bereft rippling energy
coiled in strife. a blade that blinds but
does not cut as it's struck by dusk's
last subdued brilliance, muted plume
in repose. sorrow's tender rituals:
seeking mirrors through other's lives,
made new through empathy, kept moist in green's irony,
connoting the growth of decay's perrenial youth.
recurring dream: the floor caves in
to reveal an unfinished basement
without stairs to escape either way -
many huge lions. a ragged ledge;
just enough room to balance.
barely enough is still enough.
all i need, a code word, a name i can't pronounce,
secret alliance, a scrawled message left
beneath a magnet
waiting for one compass
to respond.
