With every gathering of the profound
the sublime slips easily from the mouth.
With every staggered shout
each fear that races into you like a long-sought crisis
lurches as a mean drunk trying stupidly,
lashing out, to free himself from
the wickedly curved sheath of his overcoat.
.
The music from another room
leaps happily through its melody
but even it contains the weight of pressing doubt,
for its sound travels only so far
before it’s lost to the warm sermons of the heart.
.
From moment to moment we search
the crevices and creases,
we seek in airy locales and within
the bellies of lumbering crowds
pregnant mothers with an infant suckling at each breast
harried fathers trying to find ways to buy time
thinking of constraints and sex
television and movie screen
moving in the mind
every self an actor and
every actor deaf and blind
stumbling through each center
like a vortex that refuses to move fast enough around
and so you aren’t pulled down
never sensing the circular swing
or the spinning motion, that if sensed,
would make you, simple, sick.
instead we sing of dedication
a dedication to our life’s narrow screen
and of our singular perspectives
that give us sustenance, but always just enough
never more than what we’ll need
to find the the moment of elation
and its eternal, ever-present seed.