impending by Indigo TempestaI
somebody is something important to be i never knew i never knew that i'd never be anyone that would ever be called somebody only this old face, these old hands, this precious breath rocking, rocking
II
children skate outside of my house, in the square as i go to check the mail today the children are motorized they move so fast they take no notice of me if the children cannot see me was i ever here?
III
staring into the impending blackness my pen, my heart both more like strangers next door my housemate talks to friends and i remember nothing, nothing
IV
where are the holes? and if i cannot see them will i simply fall right in?
V
black, black, the ink is black my fingers black with blood the poetic eye is black with heat and black is the falling night if i ever go to sleep, i know the days will burn on and black black the eyes are black
VI
a blind man does not remember what has been only what the air tells him only what the passage of time exudes if i was so blessed i could hope to turn on the lamp at night and find myself still made of flesh
VII
muse, dark, i am old, my god and the light drags my skin to meet the earth at night i float, i am wet, i am young but in the day i am dry 09/26/2003 Posted on 09/26/2003 Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta
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