6

thirst and soft paper -
blank.
hand opened, palm flat, I press
into it and feel its whisper.
my fingerprints pull back;
my identity, elsewhere and waiting.
my spirit,
quenched.

glass and skin altering each other's
temperature; texture and oily film,
a heightened state collects there to
shift the possibilities of what can be viewed.

texture without context.

easy glide through
paper doorways;
empty train yard groans its
elaborate weight through the mundane
waiting. bored passengers boarding boxcars,
unknowing the tracks themselves are transient.
- one word spray painted on each car,
carrying its own baggage - its subliminal
meanings - no two passengers feel
the same thing.

not tomayto, not tomahto - not tone or
pronunciation. when I hear tomato, however you slice it,
I think of my father I think
of night shade and green fruit on a browning vine
in late autumn, too late, and too far below
consciousness - what else? I can't tell even myself with
every word running course and sharp and yet,
the page, somehow, neither rips or resists or

combusts.

simmer and silt

unnamed shapes present themselves;
the senses sway in and
geometry steps aside.
let it find me in the stillness;
let the words come seeking to
define me - i'll provide occurrence
amid widespace in an unriddled heart.
you, provide
the meaning.