april one~ Incompletions


Like a cello
forgiving one note as it goes,
then another. Jane Hirshfield

---
I am captive
of the midbody trees.
Their twiglet fenestrations

buds red beaded,
are peripheral, alike
a striƩe sugar blue.

Strontium-grey trunks
sleety yesterday, softly air dry,

mossy at the fissure of their gowns.

The mezzanines flick
silver kite ribbons. I am one
of the ambulatory,

a vehicle emotions test:
nearly levitating
on an inch of sidewalk mechanics of light. Move-ated

like an airline passenger, delivered
from terminal to home. The lead
elephant eye, plain

as a crashed, memorandum satellite

is turned onto the street, marvelling.
Marvelling: yes, how IS IT we live?
between zero and one

and the minus one-plus one
tearaway currents of thought; the tug
a yaranga tent struck down, slumped,

is slung up over the hoops of ribs:
the segregation
of bone and skin, and the little distinction

between pauses a pause, existing in infinite secret

between breaths. Obsidian
arrowhead, and an ulu, scraping
away back in the cave days, I, the cave,

want to lie down, my toes pointed up
on marsupial mound,
like a shadow flat out, between the reception of trees.

Worn, animal velvet tatter and nuzzle. Crocus
in upthrust swell
An inner pocket, for a single gold coin.

No assigned constellation,
universal gateway address, particular
intercession;no draped solicitation.

Or given patron saint: whatever it is, it neither waits upon
nor abandons

Begin again.

Last Edited By: Osel 04/02/17 13:23:41. Edited 2 times.