My comprehension
Has failed. My understanding, though
Has not, it could not –
Its departure would imply some memory, some knowledge
Of its retention, a retention
Un-possessed. Still,
You puzzle me. I cannot conceive
Of a passion reversed, and such a goal -
A death planned, rehearsed, and failed,
Nor can I believe in your values which
Lie before you in the silence of the abyss, and in the terrible violence
Of this.
With thought, however, I can perhaps find some clue toward it -
Though you defy my thinking there is perhaps
Some pattern to it, some measure
Of your despair, and
Of your destruction;
You find your re
I have always recalled the twilights of my years.
The sun would set in the same way, and they would speak to me
Of things that did not matter. Beyond my window
The frogs and the crickets passed their own voices into the silence, and my rest
Was plagued with dreams. I cannot recall
The nature of my sleep, nor the screams that must have followed it,
For I never heard them. I wept, I think
For those that were dying, but,
We are all dying and
Perhaps I wept for us.
Perhaps I did not.
Perhaps I should have done.
One certainty I have, though:
The nights were bleaker there,
And the twilight quicker;
In the muted lights,
The shado
I have always recalled the twilights of my years.
The sun would set in the same way, and they would speak to me
Of things that did not matter. Beyond my window
The frogs and the crickets passed their own voices into the silence, and my rest
Was plagued with dreams. I cannot recall
The nature of my sleep, nor the screams that must have followed it,
For I never heard them. I wept, I think
For those that were dying, but,
We are all dying and
Perhaps I wept for us.
Perhaps I did not.
Perhaps I should have done.
One certainty I have, though:
The nights were bleaker there,
And the twilight quicker;
In the muted lights,
The shado
My comprehension
Has failed. My understanding, though
Has not, it could not –
Its departure would imply some memory, some knowledge
Of its retention, a retention
Un-possessed. Still,
You puzzle me. I cannot conceive
Of a passion reversed, and such a goal -
A death planned, rehearsed, and failed,
Nor can I believe in your values which
Lie before you in the silence of the abyss, and in the terrible violence
Of this.
With thought, however, I can perhaps find some clue toward it -
Though you defy my thinking there is perhaps
Some pattern to it, some measure
Of your despair, and
Of your destruction;
You find your re
I.
will you ever
know the things that I know?
or feel the things that I feel?
even if you could
step behind the mask
and into these slippery satin shoes
you'll never find me.
I am lost
buried alive
beneath your silence.
what we knew and what we know
of life beneath the undertow
is hid in the grass between worn cobblestones
and drowned by the creak of a plague-struck city
lost to time's adamantine teeth
and to the starkly unbearable.
the storm of the 41st day.
the death of a dove.
in the empty space you leave behind
truth and memory
memory and lies
come, come to me where I lie
in a bower-bed of wildflowers and ice.
II.
omfg its a mikey!! hehehehe sorry.... noticed your comment on the thing that I barely mentioned evolution in and I just wanted to say I was all "yay!" dunno why... it just made me smiley!
anyways... gonna go knit!
ciao bellisimo!
I would gmail, but I'm at work and it won't let me on. I suspect you're more likely to be checkin' this, anyway. Flights are booked; arrive LA Sat 12 Nov and depart Mon 21. Should be good times.
Do you know your class schedule yet? We must coordinate.