So Voices Wait
for George Albon ( circa ~1998 )
Such grace in planet remains yet ignorant
of motion, a this move that thus reflecting
touches my breathing yet not present;
glyphs nesting in breast, in eyes so far
how we all watch, easy as a bird’s slow dream.
Unfold is fiction delicious in error, some
how as heartbeat necessity grants time more
precision, stairsteps needed by feet — nefariously
empty this broken wave remembered
To marriage of vehicle and surfaces aspired
as of built images touching two
orbs of mercury pushed enough
to join, were they not before?
Hung questions in web stick the lips open
happens that air is again drawn and forgotten
some falls were never compromised but purposed
— design of infinite fingers dragging strings,
pull or break is inconsistant.
The tree or nest as much as an if-or-clue made hard
laughing drops nectar as easily —
it can only seem body .. replicate .. reflection .. next plot or plan
take the kiss idea as needed to swallow, we say
yet something attends our lungs because
we have forgotten to need it.
The numbers of fruit are vicious, wounds crowned as
meat fails in air. Even poison is breathing
this enigma .. broken shift where the crevice
pleads with the blood to feed.
I am your empty line of this moment
by hope we invent the same body, make
movement quicken to fail thus learn of silence
end touched .. as forgotten breath ..
seed shaped only by what misses .. departs .. is consumed of accident
So voices try to wait, held the holding back by time
as spun by what enters of cells, more smallness gains
occur in absence which never is.
Word by surrounding nothing makes shape —
and here we’re seen to live. Frame .. dilemma .. hang .. injury
Approach light without memory or gift.
Said is not shared for separate engines like these, instead
nothing moves less than the air housing these intents
a reach may connect but rarely, yet
in a wing or accident all this keeps happening.
Have seen threads drawing eyes upon
fear. Love encrypting each syllable perfectly
as because sand as
because some wind took what
we missed into our bodies.
Growth appears for the wave to break,
to seem moving should be the motion
pure .. rare .. captive .. occulsion primed and delivered.
Animals pour through us that seem to sleep, ends we not become
instead each cell of feather .. organ .. skin .. another
Success is a going of sorts, magnification of a departure.
One position of music in all empty action joins us better.
Vulgarity of mentioned copulation fails as simply as the labels or mechanics.
We thus join, in thesis of
leaving.
Such cobalt backs clouds where grasped is black, to have burned, seemed nothing appearing as conversion. Possibly a shell reminds the future, possibly nudged in forgetting we have secured what failure sought without permission.
I am insatiably curious about the nature of living beings, intelligence, language, and the origins of our species.
As a cognitive activist, my dream is that my work may contribute to our ability to understand the origins of our strange situation as modern humans, and assemble effective replacements for what our modern cultures are but the broken remnants and falsified costumes of.
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