longwinded.

2005-09-13 2:58 p.m.

by the sheer beauty that makes it's home
inside my people

i am unholy at best
and frightened at most
anxious, with my words spilling

i'm full, and i'll never go hungry
i'm full, and i'm running on empty
eating my own heartbeat in this second spring

from far away, these are ornaments
from far away, i am self-righteous
come closer, please, and tell me about your religion

(what gods were made that come before me in your searching? what gods were there that kept you far from sleeping?
give them names and addresses, photographs and human characteristics

and then maybe we can speak
openly.)

conditions, which weight my head, a positioning of sort, these
sordid movements
that were secondhand at best
that were fearful at most
sent me tripping on my footsteps

the circle holds, the coil can unwind
into other people with their other lives
into children with their rigid backs
straight and proud, magazines piled in their places

this is how we know ourselves, through scrutiny -
the production as an infant of the ability to speak
is not as orally gratifying as it may seem -

compare in print and paper
your characteristics, the signs that got you nowhere
still seem
absolute
concrete
something to encompass

strange seeds
i was born without a mothering instinct, without
a family example to tie me
into one way of feeling

and now, abject, i feel all things
and now, abject, i am complete.

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