'imperceptibility of fear' - (june 2008)

you jump,
fly
and a scattering of shadow
breaks a line
into a tangent
falling under your feet
we collapse together into the sky

and I am
unascertainable,
a thought
buried
behind eyes of uncertainty

you recoil
to the imperceptible
the unknown

but
you know me-
a machine
toiling at alien tasks
impossibly unknowable-

you know me-
a giant
lumbering down shadowy roads
watching dimensions collapse to lines-

fearful
that we have a uniform task
you jump.
and we,
impossibly alien together,
watch the breaking of lines
into shadows
unknown
falling under our feet

'block' (december 2008)

when I try to commit you to lines
and a series of images
your nature is revealed to me-
unnatural.

the attempt at bringing you
into the focus
of phrase, rhyme, verse and foot
defies my terms
and you are left unbound

how I dream of claiming you
breaking your shape
down into words
the verses purging you
into a form reconcilable
with its formation
a paradox
perfectly fitting in its imperfection

'immeasure for measure' (november 2008)

you can tell that we're weighted
differently
and that the tip-points
of the scale
shift
as we dance back and forth
brushing along its beam

what happens when we fall together?
pulled into a mutual well
a pit of gravity
deepening

when the balance shifts
we can collapse together
into orbit

so beautiful it is to decay into each other
the winding down
of an imbalanced balance-act -
a tilting of the scales
to knock away our parity.
two equal to one.

'original syntax' (september 2008)

when I fell, I crashed hard
through layers of verbiage
and contortions of phrases
until I landed on the ground
formed

moulded, a form shapes
through the assumption of utterances
locked in ancient unfolding repetition
until a new permutation is called on
to unfold

my legacy was told in the falling
from the universal
down to the rude necessity of happening
the tipping over the edge spawns
the original syntax
that seals untold tellings
from the catharsis of losing namelessness

Adam would be proud
every last subatom named
and the space in between
left void, excised of meaningful emptiness

'fiant verba' (september 2008)

ultimately, you are best
left undescribed
by my ancient philologue tongue:

a collision of sounds
shapes the colour of texture
and a smell wakening senses
to the tangible tastes
of lightwaves

I can feel you on my mind.
a blistering undefined
potential
freedom

I dare not suppose these secrets to myself
and reduce the confusion of inputs
to the bleakly two dimensional-
the things others have said before

something new
altogether unanticipated
eradicating in its presense
the old order of syntax

your allure, ancestral
a call heard over the aeons
always testing.
a call for a response

so how do I treat you?
as a wound left open
to be filled with the clumsiness
of centuries of stumbling phrases?

an aphasia
the lack of the right striking point
as I hammer out your shape in my mind

I have no way to tell of you
your patterns unknown to a lexicon
mired in a past that never knew
your name

I have nothing to say of you-
not for beauty, wit or heart
for you are a new thing
unknown
but

my mouth will open
and the dust of millions
will shake from my voice,
attempting.
fiant verba

untitled (april 2008)

Hissing.

A shadows rolls back.

In the future, a past will recede,
And ancient forms
    rise from a shadowy tomb.

History is born again,
And living lands
    are committed to memory.

Ears pop and bones sublime.

Is it time travel
To come to the present
Out of our own past?
    or a catching up?

Days tick
    and somehow the past
    gets closer.