It’s not always natural to start from the
beginning.
The white lines jut out in every
direction and I am now.
I sit admiring skaters in their
coordination, subordination, poise, presence,
denial.
Approaching a kind of a god in
all his catharsis, i too felt as
though I were on stage, or like a
student beaming over the empty
display case no matter because
it is the procession that counts.
My head contracted in a pulse like
rhythm and I oozed vile juices
but as I stepped up and came near
he spoke and I began to quake
muscle deteriorating senses
reaching a semi-orgasmic
pinnacle
He became mine inscribing
indelible words on the page
that is me the other I
searched for and could finally
hold was in that moment
perfected
simplicity the
key to enhancement
His performance it cleansed
me enlightened me
in him i found my
personal charioteer
in whom i take refuge
Our planes overlapped
every syllable building
closer to that narrow
point where everything
seems clear
when viewed through
a distorted glass.
I waited I would have
forever
sitting waiting watching waiting
first to wait, hurry up
and wait
life is a line and
Murphy rules my realm
I arrive and write
dreams are poetry pure
i walked
the park
hack
hot dogs greet pretzles
while knish says good-night
The N comes to a screeching, sparking
stop
an eternity slips by and
25 minutes pass
squeezing, insertion, flying
A POEM THAT ENDS AT THE BEGINNING