umbra

.body bathed in sand,
lids bathed in light.
.closed like blinds, so as to not lose sight.

.it’s not right having me speak of total darkness
when all i know is black made of too much white.
.absence!!
i only stand it if it properly warms the eyes.

.so if you ask me to describe a total eclipse
or even the darkest part of a shadow,
i should this time come to grips
and explain how my view is actually narrow.

penumbra

right hand: hammer
left hand: world
right hand: bang bang bang
result:

a two-dimensional globe

now fold it in half
and coreograph
the conventional anaerobe
!what a wonderful dance!
(almost) disgustingly gracious
a nonrefundable trance
(almost) remotely spacious

‘inside small designated pockets
i keep the vestiges you leave behind’
i also stuff some worlds smashed in half
with the irony of a quick laugh.

.this has to stop.

they say that an observer in penumbra
experiences a partial eclipse
and my problem was to think that such conundrum
could only be solved with such a dance

.so babe, stay still (if you will)
for i need to go somewhere else.

antumbra

(.fuck it. it was a glimpse)
maybe even a reflex arc
(a living annular eclipse)
maybe even a complex part
(of a whole – again, a hole? –
that i’ll never see)
‘it fucking ruins the eyes, i thought you should know that.
it fucking carves the skies, i thought you should know that.’
also, it’s like looking at negatives.
fun, but ultimately quite indefinite
(and i can’t handle it)
is she even there?
(how would i know?)
‘are you even there?’
well, maybe
but not close
(no clothes?)
what?
(-nevermind-)

bad poetry

‘.nothing is irrelevant
you’re not irrelevant.’

‘inside small designated pockets
i keep the vestiges you leave behind’
(in sockets, in sockets, in sockets
…i’m sorry…                              …i was not meant to find…)

(you didn’t leave them for me
i know.)

‘laying on the floor,
i stumble on them,
just like that,
unapologetic sum
.it’s you, matt.’

(and i know you can take care of yourself,
i know.
and i know you live your pieces, utterly,
like you love your faces
and other things
i patently don’t understand.)

and,

‘even though nothing is real
and your vestiges aren’t meant to be in pockets
,in them lies my ability to howl and kneel
and, therefore, to love and feel.’

so,

‘.nothing is irrelevant
because you’re not irrelevant.’

wordsmith (to be continued)

‘there are only so many ways to tie me’
.(half knot
,slip knot
,overhand
or sheet bend)
,’there are only so many ways to sty-mie

.it was the enchantment of a single rope
,a wordsmith, i should call it (it?)
.an intricate web of my favour-it(?)                       flavours.

.but like with everything else
,i eventually pall’
and eventually apall
.’because there’s nothing i cherish more             than free hands’.