Friday, March 24, 2006

Waiting to tackle IlloFriday & PhotoFriday


Transparent to what surrounds it, this heat-ripple
silhouette bends the world, shy gravity tethered to
parallax disjunction photon by photon until that
weak force wears out, frays, inner voice lapsing
into tongues of crackling flame, sussurations of
wind-scoured phonemes, water licking at rocks.

Thick and opaque as clotted cream or concrete, body
a fact among facts: once was fair-skinned now spotted,
mutable but the template constant, some essential
pattern recognizable the way each mesquite is different
yet stamped close to others in a spectrum of trees.
Fact a sacred mystery, how these fragments and numen
make up a whole that contains the larger whole.

I am nothing except ingress and egress, a flowering tube
through which the universe sips itself, salty sour bitter sweet.

A leaf on the water.
Someone singing in an alley, words lost in the distance.
A deep tenaja lasting through summer.
That moment. Then all moments.

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