fp563
05-02-2012, 07:06 PM
The Lines
And as goes perception
then come the Lines.
Mighty in their entirety,
from every conceivable angle,
at each distinct origin.
And thin knives through the opaque,
slicing into segments the whole life,
to unequal fragments of triangles, arrows trapezes.
For the Lines destroy to create
and leaning closer,
I see their shades for real.
they are everything but shining.
and can claim no conventional beauty
but the grey mystique of power beneath.
They climb to rise and dip, descend to fall
Without reason nor command.
They drag on every visible sequence,
and curve to hold and clasp.
Each small dimension
Till it all quivers for none
blur nor fade, but,
stand firm and stream in their eternal importance.
There can be no resistance, there can be none,
When each keen thread brings me always to you.
Grain
Grain was all you asked for that day
and
as expected from me,
grain was all you would receive.
There were so many fragments which we counted by fingertips.
In time,
new eyes would only guess those numerals.
It was a day for the field and that was why you had
asked for grain.
The cattle were far too distracted by
fragile short
shoots to crave our treasure.
And we spent hours of our own,
tossing it
all into a disordered masterpiece.
My feet with your feet would smell
of grain.
and gaps between our toes would be infiltrated for days.
In the end we were but two of the same.
our skin
was of the sweaty rhubarb and disorientated veins crowded the surface in fright.
I forget your eyes, I never looked once.
The grain was all and only what I saw.
I Would Know
Fate is strong, like ten thousand graves
and all encased on marble tracks.
They are so old.
If only like moth wrings I could bend them apart - denatured for good.
We'd live in a beauty of the crystal kind
forever liberated from any pollution, guesswork, estimation, yes, hope.
As I know your shoulder blade's curve I would the the path of our time to come.
How Brave of You
How brave of you to fly from us,
to leave your silver limb, light, glorious,
to urge to grow through it's weeping stump the careless boned legs.
Why you grew bent deformed hands you can't even put to your white lips.
Do you not miss the warmth of the muscle that was yours, the comfort of what you were born joint with, the silk delicacy of its far point.
That day we all still remember. We probably will tomorrow still remember.
The tail lay flaccid, greying already on the troubled sands.
The fish seemed to infiltrate, infect swim around in the crevices of your now hollow limb, could you not feel them tearing tiny mouthfuls out of your flesh still wet with the abandoned blood?
Your newborn legs were ugly - shaking, not nearly strong enough to hold your life.
Those new knees were scabbed by rocks and bruised by your many falls as you transported your burden frame.
But you flew away into the land of lightness - where everyone is too heavy to fly.
I think you don't fly anymore.
And as goes perception
then come the Lines.
Mighty in their entirety,
from every conceivable angle,
at each distinct origin.
And thin knives through the opaque,
slicing into segments the whole life,
to unequal fragments of triangles, arrows trapezes.
For the Lines destroy to create
and leaning closer,
I see their shades for real.
they are everything but shining.
and can claim no conventional beauty
but the grey mystique of power beneath.
They climb to rise and dip, descend to fall
Without reason nor command.
They drag on every visible sequence,
and curve to hold and clasp.
Each small dimension
Till it all quivers for none
blur nor fade, but,
stand firm and stream in their eternal importance.
There can be no resistance, there can be none,
When each keen thread brings me always to you.
Grain
Grain was all you asked for that day
and
as expected from me,
grain was all you would receive.
There were so many fragments which we counted by fingertips.
In time,
new eyes would only guess those numerals.
It was a day for the field and that was why you had
asked for grain.
The cattle were far too distracted by
fragile short
shoots to crave our treasure.
And we spent hours of our own,
tossing it
all into a disordered masterpiece.
My feet with your feet would smell
of grain.
and gaps between our toes would be infiltrated for days.
In the end we were but two of the same.
our skin
was of the sweaty rhubarb and disorientated veins crowded the surface in fright.
I forget your eyes, I never looked once.
The grain was all and only what I saw.
I Would Know
Fate is strong, like ten thousand graves
and all encased on marble tracks.
They are so old.
If only like moth wrings I could bend them apart - denatured for good.
We'd live in a beauty of the crystal kind
forever liberated from any pollution, guesswork, estimation, yes, hope.
As I know your shoulder blade's curve I would the the path of our time to come.
How Brave of You
How brave of you to fly from us,
to leave your silver limb, light, glorious,
to urge to grow through it's weeping stump the careless boned legs.
Why you grew bent deformed hands you can't even put to your white lips.
Do you not miss the warmth of the muscle that was yours, the comfort of what you were born joint with, the silk delicacy of its far point.
That day we all still remember. We probably will tomorrow still remember.
The tail lay flaccid, greying already on the troubled sands.
The fish seemed to infiltrate, infect swim around in the crevices of your now hollow limb, could you not feel them tearing tiny mouthfuls out of your flesh still wet with the abandoned blood?
Your newborn legs were ugly - shaking, not nearly strong enough to hold your life.
Those new knees were scabbed by rocks and bruised by your many falls as you transported your burden frame.
But you flew away into the land of lightness - where everyone is too heavy to fly.
I think you don't fly anymore.