Friday, May 8, 2009

In Progress

                                                         An infinite logic
undiluted by form
a bit of a question left
on parched lips
From city dweller to countryman
a thousand bells
tolling bits of memory
a unique presence schemata
To make something is to give over
left with a bit of
a question

This is instinct
listen to the rain outside
or else your face split
apart entirely.
Asking why is your order
granted in the midst of this chaos.
(as a
border under pressure of doubt, as a border in question)
Then suddenly middle-aged
from end to end
veins spread thin to be so enamored
If I think views
It's never where I
'd like it to be
It's hard to conceive of this
in English borrowing from myself
the sentence setsup dynamics of power
by necessity
thirst hunger
Into that disordered
field, a word alone
is every word or
something similarly situated
This is insistent
a promise?
a negotiable suture.

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