30 October 2010
You are hungry but cannot eat.
You are heavy with the sidewalk, the trees,
Overtopped with this impenetrable.
The sun at night prevents sleep,
It presses your eyelids, you think: red shutters.
You speak a private code,
The others turn away.
The words you recognize,
The sense has slipped elsewhere.
What was lifted floats away
Into a sky you thought was blue long ago.
25 October 2010
Desire seems horizoned small
In the manifold of hours,
As minute a resident in such a place
As the lips upon your face.
When two dimensions intersect
The stronger bends the way
The magnetic curl a sunny wind
Compulsion skew a day.
But your person is become a point
In potential's plastic scope
Mere pucker in a canted field
Hedged by a weary trope.
14 October 2010
What sanctity is not hollow
That is not a stone to itself,
What tolls within the city square
Without an hour's intent,
But an ear that hears no summons?
What hangs upon a wall
Unparented by art,
But a hand to blankness by compulsion bent?
The many blind have consecration;
The one unseen, consummation.
04 October 2010
Seeking not a breath but all airs
I am blind to what's before me.
Book, not page,
Makes a moment nought,
And your face a blur
For telling how you fit.
A shadow-world stays my waking eye,
Mere objects and hours
Are between what it would hold;
Yet itself is what it sees,
Unsized upon a sizeless stage.