back in the well

292 Long drum of the ear, Dim unproven Listens to frightened frantic wings, Slim provider, Linking fitting stations with cotton cages, Hoops and Hooplas, Subtle buried grouper tuber trying to catch hold of a new word with hope and hoorah, Spool of my heart, Losing letter by letter the cooling wires which run around and around, Tiny test tubes hold forgotten frequencies, From holes in my heart, Calling my name all night long, But I missed the shadow in the window and now she’s gone, I over reached for the light reflection under the screen, I thought ‘my little secret’, And couldn’t keep up with all the times she’d come and go, Crying hinge drying wedge in my throat, A thousand falling surfaces in search of a clue, A lost interchange made of blessings, Some moisture escaping the clothes loop, A thousand low grade fevers wait to be forgiven, But just too deep for the line of sympathy washed up at the bus stop, The wrong side faking it, The riddle in my soaking notes, Ripples in my eyes, Form a way out of my throat, Where is that lie? Only stillness knows, half loosening, half holding, all patience, Half unloading, half singing, half baked, all unbelieving, Where is that single digit? Paper pointer, I am the border, Barbed wire and fine lace, Where the wind touches the fulcrum in an open field, I am short words with long connections winding through the garden late at night, Prowling, passing, praying, Holding stronger and stronger rhythms and contours of birth, Peter past propylene, I was looking into his tears, All the time he was asleep, I was waiting, Gathering feathers into wings for the pink flamingo, We dreamed for each other, Back into the well, Put my finger on the slide, And spread the living film of my disintegration, Animated little traces of longer breaths, To calm softer hills with faint footprints, Where no one else can reach, To my loneliness, Little toes in the wasteland, Blending into the enclosure, Of my clear song that adds up to zero.