Cheer up worse
things it could be
worse things
happen in the green troughs tomorrow is
day one I will I will another day
behind clouds survive
will at sea every cloud every tunnel
a light darkest
before the green troughs
I will my heart sink with sea
horse tresses wrack clee
shh they are tending the light
with moths and fire
flies for the brightment
I will in it face to foetal face
eyes for the fine shine
at sea worse things happen
survive so I will
wave things wavelets
creeps upon you like fingers
of photon falling this my katabasis
like rainbow troughs seaward
like all points dropping pressure
I will not now emerge that other end
of the world that could be worse...
.
.
.
other/self/other
You know from your own disturbance
that something is happening
it doesn't take the birds
going silent
or plumes of smoke
on distant hillsides stopping
and hanging, stilled --
only the catch in your own voice
tells you that a thing is here
for which you have no script
and that you are at your own edge
looking down, seeing nothing.
Devoid of options in this
you run down wrong paths
find them blocked
like forest trails
choked with drifts of leaves
and fallen limbs, find yourself
always back in that moment
of looking down
into the hole in the middle
where nothing has yet grown
that can accommodate this moment.
And when we wake in the middle
of searching, we find it, what we seek,
where we first looked and looked again,
though it cannot have been there then.
as though nothing had ever begun
and nothing ever yet ended
we see omens
with the edges of our eyes
other
self
other.
.
.
.
.
