What do you do when you stop
time, and observe the moment you thought
u knew tthe xperience, how does one say?
All these grand superlatives I
await in finitude, representing the same
closed system otherwise impossible-too
imagine that we describe it now.
And then comes the question of bothering
to speak in tongues one knows
will be mixed with errant spittle…
May I wipe that from your face
or did it miss altogether to connect us both
in intimate disgust of our civil separation?
Anticipatience of transcendentals
whets the whistle-blower’s accusations
a better world is free of perfection’s lie
concerning the passing of verbs.
And dry throats crack with meaning-to
regret having shouted so long and loud,
while flakes of esophagus escape.
Yet is it in the trappings of dust and skin
that we breathe what others have left us
to world around and stay in the air?
Moisture is offered to the living like a gift
taken to be dispensed freely and outright
absorbed as needed that minute one
notices a thirst is in the bodyworks.
And salving the thought that once stopped
time, a phlegmatic chortle arises so
clear articulation may be swallowed.