do not think about this
it is not here for your pleasure
not waiting self-less
for some deathly embrace
as if it were not already perfect
and rising starkly, gently behind you
perusing the pages of your eyes
passing no judgment
straighten your back
and fly into the sunset
as you were meant to –
objectless, void, unsundered
by the sheer presence of its wings
will you be lifted
footprints trailing clouds
into what has always known you
pulling the threads of your heart
it makes your fists close hard
about what you can never grasp
the light to your shadow
a silence around your music
forgeless and forging
you become its thoughts
it is no it
I AM
again, you have taken my watch, and found forever in the bargain –
I pretend to be offended because my world is now upside down
and I can’t understand why everything else isn’t falling
drawn inexorably by the velvet honey of your eyes
this must be what yes is
this must be the future twining round our ankles
lacing up our hands in unspoken prayer
while beyond our reach the coiled leopard of time
anchors claws to earth for its inevitable leap
why should time be linear anyway?
for it is the timeless in us that is now rejoicing
in this spiraling pressing of bodies and souls
upwards into the long arms of the sky
through a tiny window
a tiny window gathers the world
echoes morning’s rush of life
amazingly, my fingers trace your carved shoulder
like they have never known geometry
somebody somewhere is getting coffee,
walking the dog, glancing at a watch –
but not we, whose worlds have just collided
under the gaze of a tiny window
that no one is looking through
because we are beyond ourselves now
and I know this by the way your hair
threads lightly across the bow of your cheek
by the way every gesture becomes music
and because when you smile I am lost
again, you have taken my watch, and found forever in the bargain –
I pretend to be offended because my world is now upside down
and I can’t understand why everything else isn’t falling
drawn inexorably by the velvet honey of your eyes
this must be what yes is
this must be the future twining round our ankles
lacing up our hands in unspoken prayer
while beyond our reach the coiled leopard of time
anchors claws to earth for its inevitable leap
we care not of its landing
for it is the timeless in us now rejoicing
in this spiraling pressing of bodies and souls
upwards into the long arms of the sky
through a tiny window
down down down inside there is a silent speech
you sense it with your fingers as they absent-mindedly clasp
the empty space between your palms
a holding on to something that never was
the words are unlike these, and your eyes cannot fix them
into harsh dualities of coincidence
cannot shatter their glass frames
and spill them into false awakening,
for they are too alive with movement and carelessness
too bursting with their own unconscious
to be forgotten by your recognition
swayed no longer by pointed barbs of attention
you slip unknowingly into the place you always were already
the lemniscatory pulsing of the arteries
a sonata played on your inner organs
frayed concepts dissolving in your living words
like salt into the warm liquid of time
no longer obeying your self-congratulatory epistemology
nor your heroically reflective meta-stases
by which of course we can only mean
but you know what I mean
because you read now with your fingers, your breath
your earlobes and your wings
the sleepless ones are here
joyous in your sleep
sowers of your dreamless dreams
singers of your wordless words
my fingers are tapping to an unknown rhythm
a sightless pattern just below consciousness
feeding somewhere in the background of my eyes
it swirls, dives, escalates, tumbles
and words – my God, words! appear
mysteries profuse my skin
invisible knives punctuating reality
letting the dreams out
all the while
tap tap tap
and more: you, unquietly reaching
impossibly leeching, receiving
growing dreams of my dreams
with another blind seeming
a different kind of feeding
we, the complex together
cradle each other now
discovering pathways to ourselves
shouting keys and rending walls
loosing what we have found
Poetry isn’t good for much if it never gets read, so despite the fact that many of these poems are embarrassing for one reason or another, I thought I’d post them as a kind of experiment/record of my own transformation, since transformation is what the site is about anyway – hence the chronological ordering.
This is also a chance for me to challenge my perfectionistic side and my tendency to keep parts of myself hidden – so there.
