Friday, February 15, 2013

how to give


sharing today of summer fruit
with bright skin & red center you
are a bearing branch.

stemming new                   .
far from the source.
breath, as it sways

our youngest parts,
held fast to center,                           
splinters from another season.

caught inside memory’s
rings. my old paper head
trying to embrace with you           

& words known. phrases all ready 
before lips can crash
too easy into sound. find,
again & again,
not what we wanted to say
dripping like juice hits paper
from seasons: chin, nose & eye, absorbed.
deforming the surface.       


cadence gestures in form.
you on fragments.
of me in verse. the one
over me. when i shake
limbs to so many rhythms.
greeting every
one, as to one.
is a frantic dance.

but i attempt\attune new movements, posit a brief  backslash over myself inflected.
to conduct harmony. between them: my fingers. 
(are song), my days (ending rhythmical phrase),
my forms & my attempts,
my teachers (the people i learn of & same ones i love),
pivoted to form an I : dilating pupil’s negative capacity
as common denominator. as sound vessel. ( i pivot !

& i am a prospective equation.
derived from the colder season:
so consider intent              
mine alone. now we are floating
& i have canceled standards.                             
value is yours alone to strike
as this gold is from a fool’s vein.


without sleep i become soft
& of endless supply. feel overwhelming.
patience. & want to fix the exposed
shirt tags of strangers,
hold their blue hands, refold
their collars.

please accept my characters, my crumpled face
tilted to the side,
my weary eyes unblinking.
these images. unresolved.
by some indefinite work.
form will be sound.

see: (as an eye for a corti with fewer leaks.
swaying. precise transduction) worthy.

[or it may all disappear into the free association cortex,
growing text-static as it courts grey matters]
of the associated sticks & stones.

& yet. again i drone fuzzy.
with humor that is not vitreous
but glassy-eyed. be patient.
with me. i am an uncertain surgeon.


it has been difficult for me to be precise.  
as there is a pulse here & there.
are kind words typed & erased.               
notes written but undelivered.             
strong branches split and jointed
to support the new limbs Dali painted us,
distended & growing wild as a question,
but deciduous as a pedagogy.

so i leave you as a synesthetic child.
rooting through colorful clay.
for a gift of malleable value. each medium discrete
while blending into the next. wanting for you.
to resonate in a way that is not possible. & i am a child.
a \ vector.
come self aware.
attempting to transform.
my formal movements. to give how. are we glassed.
am i.  fruitless.                                                                

& so the last eyes of the few are who.                
harmonic of resin rings.
give how to.            

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