Sunday, 8 August 2010

approaching

I. dialogue.
you say clarity is a space, perhaps.
or a state.

or maybe it's what you felt today- remember what you told me?


it brushed up against you
momentarily. you turned, and
it had already gone.


II. audience.
ah, but wait. listen. listen.

i said: listen.

i got it! come closer, and we'll wait for her together.

here she is,
clarity.

III. imagination.

(i think i see it - her? it? her? i think i can imagine. i think...)


III. recognition.
clarity is a sentence that stands on its own -
warrants nothing but a nod - and provides a


flash - illumination -

which we briefly (stupendously!)seize, in one hand, while reaching,
with the other, towards the

uncertain next.

IV. sacrifice.
now. let her escape: let her escape, and watch.

the light dances, slips ahead and looks
ever dimmer.


V. quiessence.
it is that glimmer
(and that it is there, and not here)

that propels us forward.

without it, we would have no reason to read
the next line.

The end.

i knew you’d turn away.
i knew your face would end up nesting in my armpit.
i knew it’d be me watching the credits roll, and you, sobbing dry tears, saying
tell me: tell me this time, no one died.