Τρίτη, 8 Μαρτίου 2016

The Shape Of Emptier Each Time


It goes round and round in imperfect circle
Like a shark, my aureole
It goes round and circulates
A wake which would separate
But not in this way, not in this way

Ceaseless like a circle
Used to stand in awe, my aureole
Used to cherish, for what else to do
In front of the incomprehensible
Before this miraculous, glittering wake

Yet now I lay amidst, fist tightened
Chest narrowing in pulses
Filled with exact weight to balance scales
Yet now I glance the fin
I stare, oh how I stare

The sound of music
Is speaking to me in static tongues
Cursed be my beloved aureole
That distant line passing by, going around me
Now goes round and round and round

The shape of emptier each time
Coiling, unmasking, spinning still
The empyrean understanding of nakedness
The breath of lust in my ear
Fading away, wearing off

Tell me now, my aureole
My sweet, sweet aureole I longed to caress
Is ouroboros fate beyond recall
And understanding so firm
Confess the ways to unlearn, to become a drop