Monday, June 20, 2011

the sprinklers are working a little bit now

cleaved in half
self-surrender: part two
vacate awkward sacrifice of bodymind left slipping over choice and ravaged decision

meaning: the country of our countenance is haggard city night
with gray matter splattered against choice alley walls and treeless endings

it is not by fellowship in the chapel we have come to this conclusion–so far removed from the plains
of our beginning
hotly beginning with the last letter of mercy y y y y y y*

The odd suffocation of you and i across the room so wide built by the tides
the restriction of dense population and custom–the tradition of lying
to sound like we know--
like we might have clues
to how it all began

introduce uncertainty--the wild resurrection of embracing sound and movement
coalesce into bold new making of wordparts, suckerpunch the cordial south right out of the mouth of gentility
and make it real make it feel like something worth doing
like action is valor-- the daring heart of risk and her sister fortitude

strike chord into glances so when the eyes meet forgetting is not an option stranger
and neither is letting go

what is this poem about but bravery and heartcranks
chapelmaking fingertip calluses to ease the pain of
sewing self anew