Monday, May 28, 2012


there is movement, even in the stagnation of apathy, 
and the ghosts
of the self just pile until gravity forces a
plunging into wakefulness

hitching a ride on the backs of tears poured down in unconscious moan, lingering 
in travels between the sleep and the wake.
lingering in these little vibrations left unguided in the air, a misty hover
of august heat trapped between
forgotten birth and the ineluctable autumn.


a trembling hand raises to wipe the perspiration, beading, 
sliding and blending down the wave of
exertion to understand. to not understand.  to forget. 
to hold on to for precious seconds more.

where has it gone? desperate fingers claw 
down the throat to stave off choking. a breath-way clogged by 
this unyielding traffic of cells,                  tumbling
sleep after sleep and over and under one another, as
we cease to be who we are.    


just former imitations
buried in the dirt and scattered across the years and places 
of our
constant progression.

and, yet, they're just fragile memory grains, really.  
clinging hands to form a beach of cohesion of sense
in the senseless            makeshift box of bones and skin
and humanity's struggle for survival.

propelling the need to be fed, watered, fulfilled
feeding upon itself.                                 just once more, as ever.


a play of intangible feelings that such a memory should write on paper:

//scenes of people brushing the electric nerves of hollowed upper arms.  satin skin 
sliding past as they breathe and swallow and absorb these other selves.
carried in gentle breezes that find the lungs//


is there such an idea like that of the concrete? of ever swirling earth roads, picked up and flowing round the feet
in running adventure, barely held in place between the roots on either side of yesterday's and tomorrow's forest...

modernly paved over in human attempt to feel reality with the fingers. 
but the timeless elements beat down and break and knead fists down the path until
sleep pulls us under, yet again... 
eyes closed in a face under the sea.

(katy walker, 2012)

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