Against Eloquence
Then there was the sense of a vectored landing--very fast.
We decided it was speed after all that could carry us.
We decided to decide. The drowse lifted. Something resembling
air
glinted. Elsewhere a violin--alone--just done warming up,
the lovely sequencing beginning, stillness decomposing
where the notes rise up into it. And in the alcove two people in black
kissing a long time. And the frontier where the notes pulse, fringe,
then fray
the very same stillness we place our outlines
in, the very same one we have to breathe, and flare our tiny
nets of words
into (who's there?)(what do you hear?)(what hear?)(still there?)--the very same--we listen in there--
the zero glistens--the comma holds--
flames behind where the siren goes off,
where someone is killed but only by accident so you are free to
cross the street now--
I watch the lovers a long time--
they kiss as if trying to massacre difference--
the alcove around them swarms its complex mechanism made to
resemble emptiness--
the shoppers go by, some vacuum hums;
something unseen, under-used, tarnishes; the daffodils
endowed by the widow x flourish--the lovers gnaw--the lovers
want to extinguish something--
something I know how to kill with a word, a single word--
the violin roils across the square--
they fracture emptiness to tiny masks--put each one on--
here's smile--here's clenched--
here's fear--here's more--emptiness doesn't take notice--
downpour of architectural void doesn't disturb--
moderation of accumulative time,
vague fabric tossed over the fire
as if to squelch it, ripples in the heat--
daffodils enter the decomposition known as yellow--
edges of the patio pulse--
violin notes float, wrinkling, unwrinkling,--no--
they are not wrinkled--the message not delivered--nothing
at the address now--notes rinsing nothing--
nothing bleached by their acid--
nothing illumined by the ten thousand red tulips--
by the caustic justice of such gleaming beds
deployed by a city
to force a plaza....
April....
Now the lovers are burying their arsenal.
Now with their stillness they navigate as usual.
Don't you know it's upstream? Don't you know you are supposed
to look?
Right at the place their mouths mark, the place their mouths
puncture--
What is the void once it is forced to cross through fire?
Created by
guccipiggy
Last modified
2005-03-17 09:04 PM
