Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 56

Tell time tell

Repose in the music

That is fearful of a silent mind

What room for thought

In the (parlor/pallor)

Of happiness?

Every time the sun reposes

I feel that I am passing away

Folding into the wrinkles

Of a glass fortress

An endless bobbing calm

The skin of a moment’s edge

Waiting on a passion

To rise silent again

And breathe

In the valley

Vested curvature

Of a pregnant poise of spine

On airs of world envisioning

A drastic axe to time

Tell time

It is unfolding

My creases have left canyons

Craning their creviced necks

To hear what time is telling

Though I’ve told it manifold

Though I’ve told it circumspect

Timeless memory

A grain to grave repose

A trust to time (in-vest)

An ode trickling

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