Thursday, February 16, 2012

7 x 14 Lines for Now = is

Because I was is
in the future
I will while the were away
I will write a song each day
to the are
the here
& the there
my head rung like a golden bell
against the second this
& the second that
each minute a calculate
a hand from angels present
pushing my face
into a bucket of is

Because I was is
I will relish my has been status
I will wake to it with ballast
& protect the was
that is only while
I are
those moments
cherished physically
with movement
within time & space
a place as well as placement
which means a means
is always a means of is

Because I was is
at last
my heart will break up a frozen shore
unsure which sure was sure of before
or so much for the after
for the beat in it was all was
to be beaten again for it it couldn’t
give unless it gave back
couldn’t exit the wave endless upon the beach
unless a hand reached up for it
& broke it
so as to spill & be spilled
but still moving & not still
an egg was what it is

Because I was is
the grass of could be
grown from me
my eyes green now
then what is use of be
to the age of are to be or need to be
what it is to be or not to be a touch felt human
two fingers in the mouth then on the tongue
& a pulse from the wrist felt against the back of neck or
rib cage where another beats there their beat against it &
breathes words between teeth that soon will be were but are
because the hour grows late & cold beneath lamplights lit to light
beds unslept in to be sure that within a digital glow the are still is

Because I was is
it could be argued
there never would
be a then as the movement ends a memory ends
& memory necessitates time but time
decays memory & warps
figures of our are into crippledness
shakes down the sun then the moon
& pulls the song from each loon now dumb with was
gone over black sea seen then saw then was
dead birds fallen from the sky like bottlerockets
gone dark in an oceanic landing that ends
with a fizzle as I hold yr hand to drown without end in a sea of is

Because I was is
sooner than later
which claims always I walk into places to stay
that glow phosphorescently neon today
like a permanent motel where yr
never home but never away either
& the nuns that clean the space leave
before they’re gone & the stranger that runs the place
owns two sets of guns one for this one for then
& outside in the parking lot
a state like Montana lingers with the idea of ever
or for
ever to give to it or dive head first
into that shadow that is

Because I was is
in the end
I hope to walk into the arms of all that were
& be what they want me to be & the lore
of gods’ tick tock fill books with it
pushes people backward toward it to be continuous
that continuousness of was to were & is is are what
is not possible to ignore while is not was so
the subsistence of growth under foot after stomping it
past back to the past
& forward to the was that are keeps coming
to hopefully & we will never know as well
the well we spring or how well we love
before the running ceases to break eternity