a breeze that would blow me by,
comb through my hair;
leave me to linger through
whirling leaf-buds passing;
complete my sentences
-he can't say what he's saying-
modernity - empiricism & empires
history - text & blood
conflict - if exists is one-sided
though this has only always
been the case, been
that we are the early spring's
leaf-buds around us in the breeze
easy chasing in gracious flight
the height of the day,
only until the squall settles,
and the dirt falls
and we tremble from inside
I felt very carried, reading your poem. Took me - I think - past the spaces of faltering eloquence to what's beyond or after that (vulnerability? heightened senses? coming to rest?)
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ReplyDelete=) =) =) yes and yes and yes.
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