Wednesday, December 12

First Aid (autumn 30)

First Aid (autumn 30)

In pain there is easily a thousand words
all manners and injury 

agency shaking 
around a ring a rosy
dove pintails on the tile and 

her heart sung under my hands 
altering the the existing wood 

surrounding the
debris our scars face each other
the ribs of  the new 


But how now can we talk of late winter? 
TFW: I fell in in love with the rain 
and it pinned me to the bed


Every wound ever suffered remains within my eye
the focus 

how does it feel to be injured when
decay abounds even in the  seemingly defect-free

her feathers splayed  out on the bathroom floor
Disc cuts close
hands  survive 

Wound response a reaction 
process of scar 
seal and close

self of the world speeds speeds upward in front of  


Can we overcome the past?
is it resistance then growing

Facing scars hands moving words in variability
History simple and grown over

and it’s not a perfect system and how can I save the first
of the new tribe perched on the kitchen cabinet


Spinning off the page
I breathe into sentences to make
the fracture in the story

Here’s an iteration between the now and then now
Here’s  fist shaped pain located in the shoulder
a small sharp sun  where the wing joins


The original choices were gold and salt
Autumn crocus or hands plunged into a beehive

How we all believed in
pyramids and jaundice
thundergods painted copper
how we believed the doves flying out

 chimeras dappled in sulfur and adrenalin
the cures in the us mail



Mostly I want less thought and sorrow  and more impeccable azure I want
Boundaries as
a practice or
the distraction in paths
beds and bridges 

wetblown and doubled
To root here in exile under
the hard blue sky
my ragged and desperate flutter

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