_

she to __.


of voided reason.. a distinct space shallows.

as if at all moments, from one lid to the next,

the fact of your distance is mourned..

though mourned with no tears.

sighed, though not sighed heavily,

no burdened boughs break

no theory made law demised of ruin,

nor dramaticked brown rust-choked cheeks

speaking as a multitude of unholy jagged spires speak,

consulting with the strangeness of a placid air,

so unlike what was thought to be never breathed,

or never shared.

no, this sad gift

more remote incomprehensible,

spinning so tacit, turning

and yet never moved to lift.

you rise with the sun, and its eyes are yours,

feasts daubed of color, and you feel out toward

extending with hands of routine into weather

and you are not its subject

but i make you so

and how can it not like

fired clay horizons find

cracks under deserts of flesh

rising blood under oceans of rind

and tint all ruby, bloody all with

the color of jetsom's bath only

and yet the recompense is mine

even for this felt, for this slipping

sidelong and always losing ground

i'd pile my sticks and stolen steel

gather sticks and boulders still

and make of you a threshold crown


03.11.2008