Acting in Accordance

I was one with a sugar lamb’s eye, I gazed, glazed over, to the back of the gallery for something. The world at once present and absent. At times the mirror increases a thing’s value, I thought to myself. The people remaining behind look over the ramparts. I resumed my gaze and was quiet. I thought it a great ambiguity. She approached and kissed me on both cheeks. The loss of quality so evident at all levels I heard myself respond but all that was very distant. To join lips to express affection indicates that it as crossed the threshold of its own abundance. As time passes the roles, too, are no longer the same… like novels being written and necklaces being made. It is so complex. There is a series of changes. I walked outside and entered the square with a mouthful of dialogue. Adjusting my perspective glance, breathing in and out with my eyelids peeled back. In favor of the movement being identified, I turned it over in the palm of my hand. It was twisted like roots to the point of indiscernible understanding. I yelled out “no meaning” at the top of my lungs, but no one looked up. I retreated to the gallery in peace to sit again in silence with the waste of ideas stuck beneath my tongue as the rhythm of thought was extinguished between the walls. 

The Edge

there are no subjugation tactics
that will put our hands in yours

your eyes misread
the context in the
way we wear our clothes
don’t you see that
something lays
along the edge
with a weight
like trepidation?
it’s all we’ve ever needed
to eviscerate the lines
drawn around your limits,
to build bridges
in objective space
while you sharpen every boundary
and rename it “new frontier” –
restrictions cannot restrain us
from being placed
next to each other
we like the fabric frayed
and the curve of the water
in the riverbed against our skin,
the blue light
unbalanced by the shifting
ripples of our bodies

we snuck into the center
to pretend we were alone
our hands cupped to retain
each droplet before it dissolved

we crawled onto the pavement
together with our backs against cement
staring at the clouds, moving
in the darkness

you see you’ve misinterpreted
the patterns, and our desire
to exchange embraces
seeking comfort from each other
and those who exist
in different places

The Framer

she removed the lens
when the sidewalk shift
scraped the caked mud
off her feet
along the line,
square crossing sign,
reaping rubber meat
I tell you not
what flashing lights
will do to worsen sleep
dreaming of a narrow alley
dark & incomplete
a landline signal
low-fi & weathered
briny trigger
against the grain
sparkling in the night
trying to find the way
it goes up
a green cylinder
in my pocket
by way of
& mixed violations
inclined to capture a moment
on the cusp
of happening
it’s easier to tell
defiance from
choice of chance
to extend
a piece of yourself
releasing the tense
evolution of
unconscious recollection
open to suggestion


the U’s

the U's were upside down
frowning in the daylight
alone between the lines
waiting for a passerby
to bend the fold another way
and edulcorate the silence
of a system that churned
so far out of control
on a base of blind dependence
also known as home

it played the role of an
obsessive image dying within
with its bars turned twisted toward
unfailing adoration
repressing the deep understanding
of simple eye movements

in retrospect

knotted capes
and fostered
feelings of
the fickle-hearted
sieze the wearer
with distress
and each
and every
muddied meaning
comes bleeding out
with malcontent
a dry bone broken,
a cracked-split lip
the pain within

and moves the measurement
of one year
toward a future
much too distant