playing strange

i know you are there

given away from your arms i am set off, full
blinking soft
on my back in a dark room
i can’t say what it means to me

you are there

we laugh together,
i am in your arms

later, it is not you
i scream

you are there

may it never get
harder than this

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requiem

when we met here, on earth
there it was (defining “spirit”: a gathering – a process of cellular, pathogenic, mammalian, or galactic import, etc.)
we are here for the one who fled us

at this point, we sing your name
god was heard
some are crying
this is what we called you
one unalone
after all, it goes on

in your death
paradox made contact
and we understood where you went
as though you were made known to us
at the underside of anything unseen
there it was made obvious: material exists in a space assumed vacuous

called upon to confront our selves
turning back to try to spot
the one who broke away

we are coming for you!
no one goes on without us (defining “love”: transmutive reel. or, access.)
no one is me, no one is you (defining “god”: a gathering – cellular, mammalian, et al. bridle of wonder.)

10 minutes to tell you this

i will have lived
and i will be eaten

first, the corpus will play
a tumescent game

and letting go, disgracefully
sinking

beginning: going from innumerable junctions
unaware: losing half, and then quarter
bitten and sucked

not watching: pieces taken and used,
and i will energize something else: not watching

not to remember
not, new!

forward will mean
the need to break apart

time hot and bent to the outline of a decanter
the shape of me slowly exploding

 

rue

i held a blue face
with the head space to x out
hell-bent on being no one’s fool

not a lick of fog around my lighthouse
i watched the user pass from the corner of my eye
stopped him from pulling my rue

 

cattle call to brain

by recognizing each mood 
starting in the middle
beginning, to me
the concentric quality
rising water
in a rush, i am
starting, finishing
maybe i am compelling myself to anxiety
even joy
especially despair
depart into image:
the first bare foot
to contact the stepping stone
in a garden, at night
i am whispering this
it helps, the image
a self-portrait? i couldn’t bear

reading has been soothing me
making me innocent, in repose, vulnerable
each complete image, another trip
on the cool path of stone