memory is creative
filling in between
the shadow and the light
something new between
what is thought
and what is seen
– –
now
exists
on the cusp
of when
– –
such naïve terms:
still I wake
into a new sun
to wrestle my crystalline fears
with love and hope
for they shield
my metaphorical heart
as I naively long
to see
her eyes come
for me
– –
so many unspoken words
(like limits of secret pacts
these borders we cannot cross
without learning new language)
to speak to one another
– –
To find water at a stop in the alps
I jumped off the train
going from Vienna to Venice.
Lisa called to hurry,
flakes sparkled the night like stars;
I danced with snow for the second time.
– –
then there
you are
already
within
the familiar
– –
the air forms to your body
without effort
I breathe you in
– –
not so much a matter of will,
as it’s a matter of will not.
– –
a rose unfolds despite its beauty;
the weed despite our disdain:
he longs and obsesses
as easily as she coyly
plays with her hair
while laughing at him
– –
intent
(December 2011)
subtext 