dislocated, confused by the static wake
of the lover who leaves.
Seeking refuge among humans is a desperate act
at best
one more break and you wonder
if you've ever been in love at all.
I hear the utterances
a coo
a caw
the hum of something they’ll eat later.
These simple words scrawl,
finger-waves across the lake
the curls and spines on an unsteady page.
I can read,
I can form these sound.
I don't know what they mean anymore.
When they go the should-be silence
is shattered in complaint
of what is left behind
a jeer
a cavil
a cry
the shrike cleaving the black and blue calm of night
as she climbs, as she dives
What will answer?
The opposite of love is nothing.
(photo: Hiroji Kobuta, China 1979)
2 comments:
Everything alright?
yes, thank you, Huck. I knew at once there was a soft heart beneath the mindfists, the grenades and the lock. that's what kept me sniffing around.
I know, this thing's a bit on the abysmal side. sorry. it doesn't accurately reflect my mood at all, though there have been many times...
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