it’s not so much the double push
one then again straight away
and noticing how it flips and floes
when i feel i am made of nothing
but blood reminds its home is here
up and back around renewed
so many tunnels to travel
so much dark time
and noticing you are not me and
i am not more of nothing
there is a way a hand or voice can change
that squeeze of sinew filling veins
of time with blood and you
the pacing heart moving across that space
on the way to slow forgetting
how to move that red that is not red in the dark interior
its not so much you as the second beat
the heap and heap of you
that presses my whole still life and moves it
sinew flicking through time
up and back, renewed.
poemation 