When I am not here

A reflection
A shadow
An echo
Each a holder
Of truth — fragments
What are they
When I am not here?


Tangential definitions

You have poured into me along
My fascial planes
Dissecting the stubborn adhesions
Of solitude and
Militant self-reliance
Like water you flow
Into crevices that did not
Know they existed
Pushing apart resistances
That still define me

More visible from without

I said “People people
Judges judge”
You said “It is more visible
From without”
I haven’t always known that
That which is more visible from without
Is more visible from without

Another word for love

A vessel is molded, thrown, glazed
Filled with pine cones or wine or dread

I am transparent, gauzy, porous
A contorted revelation full of longing
Waiting to hear my own echoes
Amid the debris of creation

Fill me with cherries or loathing
All is one at the collision of thought
My misplaced patience runs deep
Like time at the beginning
Which is just another word for love


Hard to pinpoint the pivot point
Where most life moves from
Front to back
In a reversal of physical laws
Future tunneling into past
Escaping its own prison
Looking for something to hold onto
Finally accepting its vertiginous fate
With pure surrender