A Thought I Had While Swimming in Kimbe Bay
what is the proper
use of human beings
to chase after each other
like children do dragonflies
to devote ourselves to each other
like wooden idols on a totem pole
to unlock each other’s mysteries
like keys forged in an abandoned foundry
to be extreme with each other
like we see on television
to be disasters in each other’s way
like those who grip the tail of tornadoes
or is it to swim with each other, as if
we are eels bobbing in the reefs?
Until It Becomes Real
Step by step. Day by day.
Conflict by conflict. A comfortable
hug when you really need one.
What Dylan called
shelter from the storm.
All you can do is trust it.
And hold it.
A Temple Concealed
The universe nudges us
into the dance. Chimes.
Bamboo flutes. Hiding
structures.
Colliding and caressing.
Seeking and forgetting.
The soft spot
on her forehead.
That place where the
wind sculpts songs.
Conversion
You appeared
from an empty
mirror in my
bathroom
harkening back
to the shadowy
beginnings
There you were
hungry and shivering
wearing a shield
of dented bronze
and shattered marble
the basic machinery
of language bearing
nnnwitness
to the time you got lost
and found.
Patriotism and Other Myths
At some point,
there has to be a
point. A reason why.
But what if the reason
why is why there is
no reason?
What if there is nothing
but suffering heroes hoping
that their suffering will make
a difference, yet knowing
that it doesn’t mean a
damn. They do it anyway.
A Salvaged Mosaic
You look like you were born to wear that hat. To lean back that way on the rails, like a prizefighter on vacation. But what is the man in the stovetop hat doing in the back?
There is enough wine, but are there enough people bold enough to drink it? The one in the far right corner looks fancier than she is, but she is still beautiful. Dazzling and lifeless.
– after Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s The Boating Party
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image: George Payne
