Words as blades

words as blades

 

How to count–

ena, pena,

 pera, pedera

notches in bone-time

 

count each word among the cut

among the weather voice,

millenia-high cloud

to earth hard

hand held knife.

 

Glint not a word, glint

liquid, or liquid-sharp points

through sinew.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Veils of code

Veils of code

Hint of aftermath—along the route. To claim damage potential as an act. From a safe position, film every action-reaction as a neat package. Best to leave part to the imagination. Best to write loose across a wide page. Precision will come later. The route widens with so many people and people in cars. Routine movements within, and stop, and go. A loaf of bread, espresso. There is nothing to complain about, so sigh. A thin residue on the glass is not bipolar in/of itself. The bird highway baffles as always. One in the front, and a view from the back.

It appears we’ve lost the route; rain in veils. What’s left out in the rain? (It never rains). Without the sky, we’re aimless. Pulse of blood in finger tips. A leaf fell from a full tree in the rain. It never pays to be at the front where the action grows. A stunt to find another route. Let the words trail off the page. Only the birds are certain of their actions. The phone in my pocket breeds code as a desperate stunt to find a new route.

Peripheral

Peripheral

 

Blurred total,

absent the blind area,

out of reach of the pendula,

the bird arc.

 

An unseen violence

must be undone to complete

the image,

 

origin, Ur,

of urge,

 

reciprocate habit

of looking through and past, but only

a half-look, like a move

through the half open door.

 

Better to not look on the hour.

Better wait longer, to note changes,

otherwise feel a fool to the primal

Locatur,

Time.

 

Elements are around you—no use

gathering them,

or they overwhelm.

 

Multiple avenues just out of view

must converge

as all things do,

but the unifier is missing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dark matter

Dark matter

 

Revert to entry: handmade holes

knit together homely hours.

 

Turn back—repetition

masks there is nothing, no

thing where the spirit apparently

nested.

 

Rounded out,

a shape  —  threaded

feathers, filtered sunlight,

excrement, and sweetgrass.

 

Constant variable, an entry.

 

An inevitable unknown.

Fingers unfold, light

formed only. A lie unwinds

in the eye, of lines and texture.

The hard surface of a window.

 

Directive to move through glass.

Will the body unfold further? Breath-

fog, matter to live on,

maintains the tethers;

 

the spider’s

web, canopy bird,

garden cataract, crumbs,

film on the table

of spilled coffee,

gravity–

no explanation given.