what giving creature is this

something like a whispered song

mere touch

her meaning is like the texture of the perfect

my mother has escaped love

that love is no mere enthusiasm

savannah

how comes the muse to the latched-upon artist

swing

she wears galaxies of memorabilia

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

my weakest cause

i once thought that this is what i deserve:
this caustic imbalance
this toxic enfolding fear;

but my weakest cause
these days
has eroded the tissue surrounding
the head, finally

so i let the collapse
begin, having hope
that the attrition will
reveal, in time, the hot
marrow of my heart
and leave me in a fine stupor;

receptive of the best
signals, the warmest
impulses that once thundered
in the vein and drove me
to far fields and left
me the master of stars and moons

some days, yet, i'm
again small in a smallest of rooms
where the voices of the most
violent stay me here fast,
wondering ever wondering:

what did you do to you
to do this to me?

no matter
really no matter

the head is ceding the victory
to the heart
and hope is due,
while my weakest cause
erodes
and erodes