(no subject)
Back behind the news stands
And paperweights, faces
You will not see again
except for in passing,
like rigid characters of
a morphosyllabic
language.The curves of
their characters have
taken years to perfect.
Their darkened skin tones
will be lost in decades
of hapless, genetic
assimilation, falling into -
the underworld of what
Aristotle called
"accidentals": the
impermanent, movable,
separatable pieces of
what only senses can detect,
inconsequential pawns
lying on a board of
Chance -- What use have I for
These leaves and to what trees
Do they belong? Who are
Their parents and do they still
Love each other? If the
Meek shall inherit the
Earth, why flex any
muscle at all in the
face of such disrespect?
Is an apology
a performative
utterance a la
the wedding of two
drunken miscreants
and a wreckless
justice of the so called
peace? Minor chords and
major chords that dictate
emotion, either
carrying or warding
off strange unseen clouds
beneath me, may I run
my fingertips in your
jetstream? I only want
to feel that white and cool
currrent erode my limbs
like trapped stones
at the base of a
waterfall. They never
Move, not for the fall
of nations or the
countless ammendments
to constitutions
no one will ever read.
They, unlike man, are
patient, accepting of
the most basic idea
of time, being "the
process by which things change...
excrutiatingly."
They too know the
essence of substance --
that which the water can not
take away.
VERY rough draft
And paperweights, faces
You will not see again
except for in passing,
like rigid characters of
a morphosyllabic
language.The curves of
their characters have
taken years to perfect.
Their darkened skin tones
will be lost in decades
of hapless, genetic
assimilation, falling into -
the underworld of what
Aristotle called
"accidentals": the
impermanent, movable,
separatable pieces of
what only senses can detect,
inconsequential pawns
lying on a board of
Chance -- What use have I for
These leaves and to what trees
Do they belong? Who are
Their parents and do they still
Love each other? If the
Meek shall inherit the
Earth, why flex any
muscle at all in the
face of such disrespect?
Is an apology
a performative
utterance a la
the wedding of two
drunken miscreants
and a wreckless
justice of the so called
peace? Minor chords and
major chords that dictate
emotion, either
carrying or warding
off strange unseen clouds
beneath me, may I run
my fingertips in your
jetstream? I only want
to feel that white and cool
currrent erode my limbs
like trapped stones
at the base of a
waterfall. They never
Move, not for the fall
of nations or the
countless ammendments
to constitutions
no one will ever read.
They, unlike man, are
patient, accepting of
the most basic idea
of time, being "the
process by which things change...
excrutiatingly."
They too know the
essence of substance --
that which the water can not
take away.
VERY rough draft