if only
to communicate
to you my inability
to communicate
without interruptions
in sense, in flow

isn't that enough

?

how i stutter
between facades
of discordance

how ordinary blindness
accompanies imagination

opening up real
occasions for failure
every second line or so

forgets the previous one
so one cannot go on



although surprises do
happen and one goes on
as if wanting to know and

maybe one does want to know
in intimate detail

how awkwardly we go

if only it's not alone

seeming to remember something: poetry,
claims of brightness and dying stars, dull

waxy fingertips, bald eyes, triglycerides
combinations of numbered syllables meter

squat foundations once thought ground
for the turbulence above, listing like

a sail: a chair falls from the loft to
winter earth below. crunch of ice eats up

sound. in the lungs, a steel bellows tries
to maintain a rhythm, distinct from the heart.

someone hails me from a distance
to conduct a survey. someone asks
me to sign the petition to ban
heavy water. tiredness seeps into
the line, traverses long distances

to get from there to here. remember
a relationship. once a construct
filled with putty and sagging at
the seams. i don't know what lies

have been repeated without attention
to detail, this becomes an exercise
only, in impulse and improvisation

form is not different
from emptiness is not
different from form is
emptiness is form and so
on with feeling, conception,
volition, consciousness.