a secret mouth

there is this brief opening in time
a secret mouth that breathes and reveals itself
it is but a moment, a beat, so infinitesimally small and discreet
we must pay attention or surely we will believe that we are alone

rock, somewhere deep in the killarney backwoods

i practice this, this rock exists, this rock exists, this rock exists

all around the periphery of our brassy lives 

exists something much deeper, wiser, older and more patient

we are like gnats

this rock exists, this rock exists, this rock exists

investigation of self vii: the irony of wanting to be seen

toward the vale

happily goes the traveler - somewhere

simultaneously

there is a real day

and an artificial one

the artificial one moves along the highway, a well constructed, fast moving, carefully manicured, fecundidly funded, well oiled and strategically punctuated with satiation points Freeway, moving nowhere at all but moving! and this is 

the prime distraction

the real one can be found through a hole toward the vale, a dark leafed entrance to a cool pond, where desperate deep greens are chanting lowly, almost black, where the language of colour overlaps itself.  you must be prepared to sit still and silent through great waves of engulfing tides of nothing 

to find the something

after the applause the hall empties

as usual she bounded toward the cherry throat of it.

her mouth was bloody with its sweetness.

long 

after 

the 

show...

...

bird

what complex form the bird takes
with what ease it lives inside its body


what would a bird be but a bird?


and then with such ease 
its life transcends its body


this is not to say the spirit of the bird remains
it is to say that its body was but a transport for the (im)pulse of life

transitions and intersections

a brief moment is no less