Wednesday, February 9, 2011

No Architecture Can Forget / new poems 2010

The Crooked Beat

I don't know what we're supposed to be

Reinventing the wheel
one word, one day, one melody
at a time

Hand in hand
mapping fingerprints

We sweep the floor clean
of a day's debris

Spinning slowly,
we stand still
as the world waltzes
lightly beneath our feet

We turn along with
phases of the moon
that slip beyond our reach

Our faces changing
in-between the light and dark,
ascending, descending
ad nausea

Somehow still managing to recognize
one another night after night
despite the uncertainty
of what we have become,
of who we're supposed to be

Our unfailing fingerprints
finding unchanged hearts
behind the crooked beat
of this mutable song and dance

We dare to drag
our chameleon bodies
back out on the floor
without a word,
day after day,
broken melody
be damned

Knowing all we need know when our eyes close
is who we are right now, whatever may come
of this beauty beheld in years cruel counting
in constant, perfect, and poignant 4/4 time

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