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Half (3/31/09)

April 5, 2009

For your sake,
a half is a bottom,
a piece of a mass,
a shape without entry.

I’ve troubled its waking,
fearful forms,
Probed my science of listening,
writing a word,
Sensed the shallows,
counting breaths down to none.

I’ve circumnavigated this one.

I’ve traced its sand, its sinews and branches
licked its skin and opened it to
a new series of joys.

I’ve felt myself in

and swum out, maybe,
only a little

But the mass has no measure,
and I am no lone watcher,
no keeper and breaker

I am half in, and half without,
and whole of none,
and into another still.

I smell
some big,
some other
gravity of old,
a way that holds a larger piece,
further to evolve

I listen
my ear to my chest,
collapsed and fair,
and observe it.

It waits in a
repel, attract gesture,
holding an ocean
wrapped neatly,
tied with ribbon,

It’s spherical,

I want it to fall and break,
face itself
taste dust, spit, and

learn to love

and waste an hour staring at the sun.

I love it while it waits


for a soft time,

a loosening on the choke,

a breath,
wet and hushed,

a slow,
slow release.

Waiting for when the surf can come,
and finally,

And wash over the mountain of words
wrapped in dust,
trapped in the earth
under this impossible hollow

And take away
the half of me
that shudders to touch the depths of space.

I want it to eclipse my blood,
just for a moment

to shake this place to ash

and replace every inch of tissue
my sorrow’s fallen into

To lift my face up,
over my head
and push my eyes in,
back to the pain
and further still,
to dark

And after a slow,
slow embrace,
a lingering taste of its mouth on my chin,

I want it to leave me,
to let me hold the bones forever, and
stay muted,
quietly wishing me well

Standing on the edge of the pool
looking down

Watching me slip deeper and deeper
into solitude.

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