tracing (everything that matters)

tracing (everything that matters)

tracing everything that matters

took him less time than anyone imagined

everything that matters

had been with him forever

shapeless until he recognized it

and then wordless as an outline

boundary of everything that matters

boundary of everything that is missing

•

sometimes or to be honest often

he closed his eyes to trace the space

he knew like a recurring dream

or the echo of a shout from a well

before she dove forever into the abyss of gone

she told him that she did not trust herself

as if that could ease the longing

as if that should ease the longing

as if that would ease the longing

impending doom

impending doom

of all the special powers

he would have chosen

this was not the one

but he had from the beginning

the ability to hear impending doom

the soundtrack of his life

but as always in these cases

with great power comes a great problem

he never knew for whom the doom tolled

impending doom subtle and pervasive

surrounded everything he did each day

fading away before swallowing him

and then as these tales seem to go

he was swept away by the one he loved

complicating the lull of impending doom

in time of course and we cannot be shocked

she set him aside and moved on without him

leaving only the now much louder ring of doom

some things take great time and great distance

but alone one day his mind drifted again to her

swimming up through the recollection of a dream

he finds her alone in a dusky stand of trees

and she turns to him opening her mouth

her voice clear and sharp as impending doom

dislocation

dislocation

i wrestle with the moon

and think of you

your skin in moonlight

the curve of your shoulder in silhouette

these dislocate me because

i am nowhere without you

•

dislocated i rise imagining

there must be another world

where you will hold me again

where a mother and child pass by

and everyone pauses to bow recognizing

this above all else this is the reason

blue blood

blue blood

when i read horseshoe crabs

all have blue blood

i wondered why every human

couldn’t be born rich as well

unchosen

unchosen

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why
Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine

“Black,” Pearl Jam

i can’t help myself

drawn again and again

to the film Silver Linings Playbook

like Notting Hill it calls to me

against my reservations

about the unreality of pretty people

i offer this as explanation

recognizing it likely fails

as justification absolving me:

near the end after the dance

Tiffany believes she is the unchosen

running from the hall crying

and then Pat chases her

asking her to read one more letter

when Tiffany realizes she is the chosen

that for me is almost everything

the worst being the unchosen

and the wonderful possibility being the chosen

i forgive everything else untrue

about the film and pretty people

parading before us as if such is possible

because you see it is not pretty we want

those who are the discarded and unchosen

but to be that one true and only chosen