one heart
shakes the light
gently - sensing
how close - so close
its freedom - just
there.
one unscattered heart
rises up to receive
the marrow of its own
bones. october horse breath
at dusk. small shadows that fall from
themselves, and move
like breath and disappear
in high, greying
grass.
--he wept
that night.
I think that,
had he known I’d heard
he would have
stopped.
faces recede from the harbor of my memory.
inception intercepted at the still point.
once, we uncoupled shadows from an old, old overgrown
summer. took care, took
each other to the inside
of the hourglass –
someone else had been there long,
not long before us. no footprints;
just sandcastle remains – crude domes vaguely suggesting losses to time.
worn down … everything.
perpetual landslide toward a moody center –
trees spreading downhill -
two days from now, upturned
roots aligned in a gully-bony crown –
bones breathing deep
and out.
true prayer rarely finds hands clasped.
reverence breaks its grip wide open – tender and yet,
desperate. - fingers disjointed and yearning
inward.
lost sense of gravity – we could
in fact,
be upside
down right now
moving towards time’s waist
wasting wayaway we slip -
grains thru worm hole black hole death hiccup
and maybe,
unable to notice.
invisible aesthetic,
the underside
of language where knots
are tied and threads cut off,
ragged,
rough
and tragic. quiet grace,
it’s all just
vibration - dialogue held hostage,
a soft brush to paint with,
a phantasm-ed skeleton
ranging its delicate tracery
crisscrossed outside its own lines.
cold veins of the future predicted by the past’s
apparition of what was left
unsaid. there are no ghosts –
we among
the living,
haunt ourselves.
