elusive elation
where no one can wait but for waiting lies some singing
faking
a sound landing rifles through her cosseted fixative;
swerve to save the one living
I came charging into it
felt the damp delicate touch at the fringe
later wondered why I stopped -
there being so so much in and all around –
I stopped being, chose pretending,
lost touch
found reason
cold crutch for a crippled man
that swerve to save the impish id
that swerve knocked all loose
save one scientific crumb clutched tight
more than one perfect moment lies
pale, desaturated, preserved
untouched
resubscribed to at this time, and that one,
and again -
knowing another way
into it
is allowed,
is salvation;
another way in
besides reason
embodies terrifying joy -
- where is my fitness to tear open the thickening forbearance
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1 comments:
deep..
p.s. it seems that on the internet, where tone is dead, i feel the need to let you know that one can say something as simple as "deep" without any intentions of mocking the poet. i actually mean that i felt this poem was deep.. and good.
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