Thursday, April 05, 2012

ratchet-choking the homoousios (sea-coal)

in a way a way you are the dead
helicopter sweeping light
over the rooftops back there the year 2000
even before everything had happened
now today our six eyes flat out down
the shaft dropping stones through the grill
counting seconds this is you falling this is me

I confuse both of you with who she was
but is no longer
there is nothing down there for us
the seam is worked out and rotten
once a year the sunlight fills the shaft
whose final scrapes shine beneath the moss
as heavy sea that floods the engine room
the drowned men with their fingers wrapped
into the grill where we lay counting heartbeats and years
footfalls into the future a glitter in an old man's eye
but do not dare to think it, the consubstantial
the one flesh, spirit-flesh four now three now one
falling together falling upward at a heart's solstice
our peri-apogee backlit and uplit
our fingers tethered together

to gather in the very last of us


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