The Slow Heart Pacing

Poetry

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.

Time

Uncategorized

It is awash

again, aiming

sunrise moonset

months then years,

gone into the sliding jaw mouth past

slipping water-like the falling.

Is it the photograph

stopping this moment,

or slowing

the bubble of that, or this,

bursting the passing

membrane

with its glassy lens-tooth

as if this could stop the flow and flow of it?

Days pass

with the claw and claw

as it trembles

but never slows

the tilt of the eye

the kink of the clock,

runnels of it through the evaporating mind

falling and falling

moonset, sunrise.