unmentioned.
2006-06-15 10:06 a.m.
spend the night opening my arms up, as though i could believe that this ghost, these limbs and bowing bones,were sea-ready. set sail, there is safety
in close knowing, in one-sided conversations, in ears covering themselves up
in physical retaliation.
secret, i have kept
the right word
the perfect syllable
the ability, proclivity, advancement
that will make you uncomfortable
that will keep you from talking.
power, that edge, the precipice substantial
that supports me in my movement, and yet
allows for subtle failures, little slips
into disaster, and my old ways
will go unmentioned, will show restraint,
will be forgotten, will be
replenished in new faces, lips that cannot
spare their stories any longer, and escaping, pretend to seek advice in an effort to be open. poor children, who cannot make a statement for its making, who
instead
excuse themselves as though they are uninvited, who seek
wholeheartedly
the subject of their posturing, and wait, reflected
to see if i am listening. i am
the same as this, dirt. i am
omnipotent and unimportant, self-fed
on the misery of living, on the thick of expectations, on the hope that change can bring, on the decisions made
to be misleading, on the angst conjured at sounds of names, at certain footsteps, and i am cataloguing
in my restraint,
a specific type of weapon, this language
that can pull such expectations on our heads, and leave us
vulnerable and open
admitting that we choose to do this harm
with selfish intent, and that life is not the good, not the grand thing we've presented, is instead
the carrying of the stone, the happiness of working, the failure of the image, the complacancy and longing
that we can carry forward as though we, purveyors, were the only people to have experienced
the terror and peril, the conquests and the longing, the haphazard circumstances
that we could coin as being.
and we have been, we have been, so free of our own transgression, that we, subject to imagination
made masters to overtake us, made love
a mountain for unfolding, made coping mechanism
made pursuit a matter of protection, and i, first hand
have fallen
willing
into this great sin, into my own misplanning, have stepped, adventerous and steady
into the constant shift of searching isolation, seeking the lives of others
as though i myself could live them, could be the one to drop the curtain, could be the redeemer, the great translator, the sanctity to come right back and save them.