The opposite of repetition. //
Unresolved opposites permit no focus today. These times when it seems impossible to win, (to do even/just one single thing), I forget until I remember to forget. Try letting along instead of hacking against the knotty grain. In the southern land of the last living things, time wasted is but devil-deprived.
So I spent today feeling sorry for Grimes, and sorting messages sent across water.
From the west, a bump on the head, a minor rupture on the surface of deeper, longer-term commitments, tendrils of an echoless dark. Uncomfortable laughter interrupted by untranslatable tears. A familiar face shows no sign of recognition. Anxiety as mercenary, untrusted and useless. While touch, denying separation, begs mercy for mind’s betrayal.
From the east, syncopation of a body’s breath. Mechanical blips, machine eyes seeking nodules of soft tissue, to test and seek again, in oft-repeated cycles. Persistent fever, failing fathers lead mothers to leap out from a fascist frying pan into flames of wind-sheared ice. Blood seeks a new frontier, in northern latitudes, the opposite of repetition. Yet a clumsy gambit for youth.
Parallel lives, viewed as from above. Are they one, or many? When feelings follow fault lines, we take out mortgages on surveillance drones. The old houses are gone, the smells of carpets and moth balls, gone, cat litter and Christmas, that one springtime we planted a cherry tree, or the scent of pine needles, toasting under the North Carolina sun. Anticipation of snow from equatorial afternoon, monsoon against red cardinal’s frosted footprints. Dear unwritten sister,
I’ve forgotten how to share words with you.
Let me hold you in the palm of my hand.
//
Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatu. 🌓