Did thee watch the color drain my face
As thee voiced thy philosophical doubt
To the watchful airs of class?
So did thee then peer into my solitude
And take notice of the desert?
And what rain did sparkle my eyelash
When thee pulled me fast on back
From my deserted intoxication
I sweat to stave the desert that night
To keep my being moist for thy affinity
And the rain pattered the valleys
Of allosensual death
Upon our emigration from solitude
The winds tend to rise after the dark sets in
They come in off the bay
Of our umbellate memories
They come in off flights from heaven
On a darkening white
If I am lost
It is because I might not be found
Though an abstinence from the company of slaves
Preserves only innocence save truth
And solitary freedom is a deep vein
Alas we must live in step with time
And not in spite of it
Though how am I
To make it through the night
When everything is the same?
We must draw from the dark
Even in the light of day
And a funny thing that dark
Lulled to sleep in the panic
Of a candlelight oust
The machination of the ecstatic moment
Base flashback
The concerto toss
Life is teeming beautiful
Crisp and elevating the violin
Shrills to the chilling wind
Shaking the rafters
In the tidal pool reflection
A weep after the storm
As if life’s greatest ease
Were to dash it for abandon
A tangoed insurance
The poet concludes his dark dance
With a concept that stands
In the stead of reality
Within the season of light
And the naïve poet
Seeps through the dry stucco
Of analytic philosophy
A step back from meditation
Having been lost in the traces
Of fugitive gods
The imagination
The lips that pucker the channeled spirit
Lead me in
My heart beats like a melting clock
And I killed myself in my pretensions
For my reflection in a preconceived consciousness
An idealization of imperfection
A solace to what was once cowardice
Now a light at the center
Of a glass figurine
Honing thy concentration
The illumination of dust a settling
Into an angel’s caring hands
She’s saving me from a rationalized solitude
The nightly messenger of despair
And quickly the bustle
Enshrouds the color in disastrous solitaire
And poignant alienation flashing through
Heaving moments of butterflies’
Births on same alien airs
Where the colors are refracting
Upon my vanity pressing crisp
And sweet on through the infantile delicacies
Reaching dire exposure in emulsion
The silver is coagulating
In the mantra of a yearning insemination
Straight the jacket I’ll need my freedom fixed
Flourish in the brief bursts of a shackled emotive
And distilling my apathy a proper distance held in vain
Am I losing all in my exacting fortitude?
Or in my distillation of illusion?
Am I swimming faster
Than a doubt might catch me back?
I’m begging change and no more to be exact
And I’m butterflies all the same
Nothing is moving me so soon as you
So would you care to dance?
Just dance the night away in the eclectic moment… the
conglomeration of a conductor’s halt on the perpetual rise… We are always
moving forward… too fast too fast… to notice our descendants’ fates… and too
large a gap between common sense and our well reasoned expectations…
We must make concessions of consistency if we are to
invoke a genuine sense… merely dancing in the dynamic dissemination of
contemporary art… entropic… lest we rise and rise again, (re-presenting) the
illusion ad infinitum.
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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