Monday, February 21, 2011


“In the whole of what’s possible, you’re not missing anything.”
--Laura Wetherington

when the impossible becomes one
and the same vibration
show me
I am this body, turned and judging
missing only the possibility of
symptoms, listing ways in which
a breath, a cough, dust in the air
figures perceptibly like fragile
velcro scratching against yarn
this knitted deafness

I am (this body) under
the pressure of breaking through holes
of mist, part of a parcel
of forgotten worry
strangers meet at the intersection of 3
states, cross each border
and reconsider
symptoms can lead to other than death

when the possible becomes inclined
to ask
a philosophy of circular thinking
redundant emotional clutter
smoke figures loosely in this analogy
see lightning, wait for
more undeniable clues
and ignore, like a sore throat
what lies behind eyes of
circling around the obvious
musical interlude
on repeat

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