Litkicks Message Board Archive

(Compassion piece for string quartet, ignored.)

Posted to Poetry




I forget the movements
Of your courage are
Not like an unplanned
Music.

(For no reason, I sleep. Breathing
Comes along nicely, roiling

Leaves of sigh and skip, held
Deep and released.)

There are patterns in the birthing.
Bodies draw closer to cluster.
A short learning of sound
And a deep-chest

And a kind of danger in the exhale: A sigh.
You

Are not the desolation,
The haunting drowning
In bliss of exception;
Accept that the

Grammmar of the stranger
Is always a song

To be cured of at the core
Of pulse with a strength
And a fortune sang for:

A magic within the magic is modulation.

What matters most is motion, adored.