languid and far away
these whispers fail
jumping over time tricks, lost and wild
whispers lose against space
from another shot
bleeds a teleological body,
garishly sifting through the means until
it collides with
in the beginning all I wanted
was to know how the
world on a
but what happens
when my two working fingers,
like vipera, are unable
to comb for
to dig for
Don’t go over there. There’s the edge, right underneath that bush. If you waver, you’re done for.
But still I crept, crying as they kept pushing and yelling. Someone tried to pull me away from her.
I am not crying as we hold hands and toss made up words in the air, every day.
I woke up and I thought I remembered being here, by the desolate plane, crowned by a single bush. Then he came and warned me to stay close or else I would fall. When I fall it doesn’t feel endless at all.
Still, I was thinking of the time we held each other’s hands.
Once, but not twice.
again does not persist
a passive chicken overtaken by fright
turning everything around
The proud cost of leaving time
To its own devices
corroding lines in the eyes of the chicken
Infinitely significant (or not) because of “once”
Seconds like lonely birds that fly
To some dry serenity
Left empty in its passing.
There are the imperceptible things
That I constantly long for
And then there are inscrutable things that stand
at the center of the way
Harsh, rugged the inconceivable reality,
The cutting interruptions,
crimes against my understanding.
I dive down like a dog in a storm
When I get a glimpse of the sunset,
I look for the subtle, hidden stars next to the sun
They are slow to come. They are shy and deceptive.
Still, I linger, longer than before, I linger
Without a plan or goal, the longer I linger
The more I gather time in my pocket.