MB Hair

Resurrection

(for June)

 

 

Oblivion, colorless

cold oblivion,

frigid molasses movement

against time

as solid as adobe

in winter. No

hope. What is hope?

Darkness answers

with darkness.

 

Time not time,

space not space.

Waiting,

what’s waiting?

Who’s waiting?

She’s waiting!

He: he is; he is he,

awake. Is he?

Is is?

 

A gold coin,

a distant moon,

a sun of face:

her face, a place!

A place towards:

a direction!

Up! Up against

the tar, the tar of

oblivion.

 

A light, a sacred

light, her face,

a pulse, beyond reach,

a glimmer. Jello

movement, awareness

drugged,  the light,

gone. Again

the void holds

the swimmer.

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

The tunnel

becomes

a tunnel when

light becomes.

The light, her face,

the swimming crawl

to reach the light,

the moon,

her face,

her.

 

 

Embi 11/12/13