Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Magnificent Letter Stolen By Artists

Within the confines of these stars
Within the lace-work of of these worlds
Within the framework of these movements
We hear the sound that is not perceived
We see the chance to make a plan
We unfold the desires of our designs
We make the future of our past
Then when there is nothing beyond this
Then when the design is no longer there
Then when we fall forever into nothingness
Then when thoughts no longer come

Within the blackness of these mirrors
Within the mirage of the hallways
Within the never ending portrait halls
We begin to lose what we thought we had
We begin to hear the sounds we never heard
We fall from the center into a fog
We return to notions once seeming silly
Then when the ages appear in manifold
Then while a tide washes over destruction
Then when infestation is apparent in their faces
Then while we speak in archaic tongues

Within corpuscular confines of our reflection
Within the doll's eyes we've sewn backwards
Within time resting on the notion of itself
Within the narrowest of boats in sea foam
Under the influence of a magnetic force
Under a flotilla of conquering tribesmen
Under the sacred presence of nocturnal plants
Under pine needle shadows used for compass

We enter a room through cavernous doorways
We settle in chairs of arranged feathers
We whisper to each other that we know the nightmare
Then as the clocks melt on the shore of the Caspian Sea
Then as the Earth implodes through its vortex
Then as voices drift to differing directions
Then as our sun no longer belongs in the sky
While we sit under stars the lagoon is present
While nature is forgiving the idea of it is not
While we labor with our thoughts crossing
While the comet moves closer we are still far away

Under the guise of unknowing it happens again
Under a great tree where we understand reunion
Under the influence of tidal activity we swim
Under the lake of stars that separates us
We play and what we play at is described
We trespass and trespass against ourselves
We adapt to the falling nature of all loss
We deliver the glossy idea in a golden package

There will be no place to go to be alone
There is a place where truths remain sacred
There beyond the temple is the mountain in mist
There goes the only pulse left in the body
While you were out we gathered our things
While time waits for no one I wait for you
While in the depths of this cave we didn't see
While all that was taken later was revealed
Under great duress the team of dogs leaped
Under scoops that slowed the oncoming snow
Under my disguise you will find a gentle hermit
Under and over in this bilious play of words

We turn to see ourself in a blackened pool
We reach up to pull a cord of a light
We sit in a chair facing each other
We speak to each other as if we've always known
We were twin identities born out of own devices
There is nothing more to say to clear it up
There will be nowhere to go from here
There are no other plans to be made for this
There has never been a time to live this one
There are several ways of looking at it now
As we come to know this something is evolving
As a barometer tells what the dew point is
As he looks at the coins tossed for the I Ching
As another world replaces the current one
As all is being seen from the inside and the outside

Under the sail of a distant ship things move slowly
Under these present circumstances this is confusing
Under pale light we have read our fates in twine
Under me you are pinned and there is very little light
Under small craft in deep ditch next to long highway
While sitting up I could see where I was sitting then
While portraits being removed from a wall lament
While in a gallery under renovation
While looking for a new location for these faces
While cold weather across covered paint wears
In time, we look behind us again to see us there
In heavy black mud up to the waistcoat weathered
In a month when it rains and the clocks stop us
In constant time of strife bending inside

Then I looked back through a photo diary
Then there was nothing I could see
Then better was I for knowing nothing
Then it was going to happen, it was unexpected
We come to see what we are talking about
We can almost make the language we are speaking
We are clearly dying and embarrassed for it
We expect to see the slow meandering self
Still we look closer at the fine filigree
Still and the hood of lost meaning
Still hearts and underwhelmed by what we know
Still noises at distant gates climbing
Under great esplanades of arbors waiting
Under latchkey in undergrowth growing
Under some creamery that is long since closed
Under horse's hot breathing in cold gray whither
Under slow painting and chipping of solid air

They seem to think we misspoke
They never listen to what we said
They are born in water and cannot hear the air
They are constrained in the usual way
As I turn the pages of another time
As the houses of dust breaks down
As the well deepens under sad eyes
As pages turn as pages turn
Cast of sea worn Senators climb the halls
Cast a wreckage to the fate of everyone
Cast a knowing glance at the drunk and slobbering
We might look deeper so we think
We slay the last long porpoise of captivity
We look at vigils on TV and pray we don't end up dead
We take out new coat and shirt
The glow of light comes through a window
The calling of a memory just beyond your birth
The woman bending her shadow into the fountain
The life goes out with a short note like whisper
Okay, I get it, it's midnight now
Ok, but not any more aware of where you are
Okay they'll say but who really cares
Ok, I'll speak to you again before I'm gone

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