THE GROOVE FONDUE

poems fondue

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Landscapes > Portraits: of a Spider Web

We watched the nude bodies of those
who, from whatever cause, lack shame

and learned nothing
from their sacrifice.
We went on unaffected

I do spill trickles, here and there;
small hints in my fingers--eyes
upward, shuttered--

mostly overlooked
in the absence of convenience;

Your comfort has reduced this
to a thimble-shot of thorns

bottoms
up,

* * *

I hadn't yet seen the inside
of any world
of your creation,

does it feel to be emptied?

I consider me this one
way street
and question presence in anything

While I'm screaming out
cut me out, from here

...you go somewhere higher?

Is it
why it is
that you can't hear?