The wilderness thickens as I
Draw nearer the shore.
The stillness is savage
To my untrained ear
Like a bird of prey
From a forgetful corpse.
In a chair the color of wept sunsets
I bleed poems from both callus and debris.
Young and cautiously permeable
I have known taboos which are
Unspeakable without euphemism
To the grave of an infancy
Sired by stone angels and brutality
To a femininity that sours on ripening.
The ability to freeze time
Requires only attention
To stand naked under
A solitary light and announce
Without reverence or revulsion
The name you have been given.
I will discard that name
With all its fictitious counterparts.
I will be a gypsy fueled
By the currents of earth and sea.
To each soul that I greet
I will pass on a piece of myself
So innocuous they will take it
At once to be there own
Like a spark in a fire that has already been lit.
We never speak to others of matters close
Only of happenings and postures.
The art of conversation exists only in novels
Right now on paper someone is framing you
For passions you can only hope to commit.
I have been struggling with writing or I guess disassociation which makes it hard to connect my thoughts.