climacteric

in the face of the timeless void of death, how do you choose to search for the vitality of life?
as for me, i think i like the endless quest, the best

how do you measure time?
in plucked guitar strings, disjointed happenings, brisk dips in the sea of memories?
in coffee spoons, empty teacups, developed negatives, film strips?
leaves piling, marked out calendar days, number of phone calls you made?



different senses activate various reactions
as for me, i think i'm on to something, it's stirring

when you feel something, however minute, click into place
it resonates inside of you like the echo of blinds being raised in an empty, quiet room
you feel as though it was meant to happen this way
you're in the right place, at the right time
and i couldn't help smiling the whole way home tonight

each moment is a ripple. let each one ingrain, entrench itself within you,
every subtle movement in the waters combines with others, forming
the free flowing ocean of dichotomies that becomes you,
moves you











Who can mediate
between the body and its undoing?
At night in each of my limbs
I feel the skeletal tree ache,
and I dream of leaves
in their feverish colors, floating
through the small streams
and tributaries of the blood.

Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer;
bounty, balm after violence.
Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields
have been harvested and turned.