damning evidence of what light my crannies hold in the dark...

damning evidence of what light my crannies hold in the dark


we were pretty much looking at the destruction of our 
livable habitats/ the city-scapes could scrape by with 
guile and the massing of will and grit and putting 
enough bodies into one place to ensure 
sustainability by sheer numbers and much like penguins in 
the antarctic milling about in numbing numbers taking 
turns to face the fury of nature on the outside of their 
tight huddle of hoping to keep warm enough...

I do not want to drown each life in attainability
(each cycle-turn-tumbled key is an isthmus of what you 
see in this life)

so accordingly, swimming in rivers 
on the living side of Hades
shall be restricted today 
to only those qualified 
to be afoot and a-fin 
in the flotsam and jetsam filled waters 
of modern civilized humanity/ 

how does a soul, mirror and tea, 
come to see without eyes 
is every life just the land formed 
between the bodies of death 
spirits use to peruse outside 
of the way we humans use time 
to keep and gather things 
we identify with/ 

sorrow, it seems, 
is very much a part of me 
and apart from second hand recollections, 
I still seek bones to cage with my flesh 
and intentions under the pretense 
that there must be happiness 
somewhere along the way...

perhaps I'll stay for awhile 
this time, grow grey and old
but I, as you do too, know 
today is an insistent thirsty 
and always about 
abandoning reason/

does virtue have to be treasonous 
if indeed we want life 
to be all learning and instincts
entangled between gathering 
and letting go of articulations/

gestation choruses 
clamor and ask 
can any of you be 
the leading knife edge 
of wind wound round 
this pale blue dot 
as it carves time 
with its constant erode 
can any of you 
see to swim 
without gills and lungs 
filled with water, salt 
and what once was...?


EJR ©