Tuesday, January 13, 2015


How do you define this? These broken birds clawing the spaces between bones, this pale roar re-vibrating through hollows in my words, this swelling landscape of unspokenness.


Shed phantom leaves, barely-there prickle of an imagined line. Veins bird-songed through, poem-space in bus tickets. Fever spill, a pondering- sleep spoons seas into eyelids, see threads knotting quiver and quiver. We understood through lung-pauses, long guesses, held our many-ness like wounds, like weapons, this numb thumbed poem in the fragile dark. Marimayam