Sunday, November 11, 2012

the down time

there's a transition happening
flowing around us
worn river rocks 
in the churning air
no one talks about it but
my body is telling me
slow accumulations on its surface
rising through a membrane toward silence
insistent brick walls hit
phantoms echo in slowing bones
waking up gasping I've said it before
sinus headaches retort
building up while I sleep
anti ice caps go south then north
"unseasonably" is now in season
if only we could find the right song for it
dainty curtains hung around its face
comb down the wiry hairs rupturing from
coal-blackened shoulders run down to
oil tar hands, nails fouled and smoldering
it's only horrifying to us bugs
but I was talking transition
choosing blindness over sight
open like a fertile blossom
laying in wait on the underside

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