In the Haiku between you and I You and me, there is only silence
For I followed you blindly
Without words, like a fool’s errand
And our experiences were finite
But as poets we were prophets
Taking the ordinary
To make it all-beautiful
Immersed in the variables
Of relationships, I became My own kind of poetic analytics
Poetry defined as immediate
Identification, and you were there
A myth in my eyes of incarnations
A lost journey of mine without a home I followed you through time like a nomad
Of a poem our lives once wrote together
So pure and profound a calling
A writer-seer’s blind spot of pleasure
Ethereal, unattainable, self-sacrificial
That’s how the poetry between us sounded
Transparent, with a red dress of infatuation
Still warm, the muse of powerful
Barefoot cravings and blue-stretched out
Mythical bed of alphabetical nipple-tested
Vowel-slurring sweet anarchy.
Hope is the circumference of life
Faith is the circle of the fall
Creation the mighty exponent of
Oxygen and water, blood and time
History notes love is posterior
To fate, that seal of light
That spreads what we were
And mixes it with the cycles
*
That never stop, only recede to start again
Revelation cannot end with
Going blind, we learn to listen
Silence is the jewel of posterity
The future, the brimming Deity in our eyes
Perhaps we ask too large a place
No less to explore the furthest skies
Hope remains the circumference
*
Faith ends all beliefs of smaller bundles
Creation the happening where we exist
Open to all accidents of loss
Yes, oxygen, water, blood, time
These too will be taken away.
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