first, a small book of answers
always beyond reach
scribbled in beautiful black, black ink
if only i could read its contents.
you look like a Bible
but you could be
anything
and you prove it is not only a
duty to reality that urges us to create
meaning, there is some triumph –
some mountaintop to
be reached.
second, a golden key
that does not have to be golden nor
a key yet its muted
glow and
my understanding of its function
give it worth. my only duty is
to take the key and
unlock the door. I
will perform this
action without further thought.
I jump. I did because I already
was.
third, a piece
of bloody flesh. razor marked,
a slice of what once was
freshly sliced..
slowly rotting. the tragedy
that is.
fourth, fingers outstretched
palms up, palms that hardly see sun
fingers out and all we do is stretch blindly
curling and sensitive to wind
you, open in wilderness
and dusty corners that have scarcely
felt care. scarce is the eerie echo
scarce,
dancing in wisps and smoke,
this is the only way you know how to live.
you sit here in front of me and
i see your outline, as you
move your outline moves and as
you speak I compute your words
in my head
like math and
in moments i remember i have a heart
and i feel. and when i really
feel i’m assured
that i’m human but
you deserve
much more feeling
than this.
silver hairs. eyes
like two deep hollow holes but
they see and are not
hollow.
we dance and when i realize
i haven’t mourned
enough i think how
dare this curse
fool me
fooled again. tomorrow, tomorrow,
always tomorrow.
last, a seed.
the blessing must be assumed ~
it will grow.
