Shadowtrain

Sheila E. Murphy & Douglas Barbour
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from Continuations XLVI:

 

 

gone where no here see

saw there a twist

edit of the real non

functioning id deal

deck stacked stoked

fires rage beyond flat line

 

latitude tacks on foundation

seasons after longed-for

sapling reaches spire height

functioning the way fire

in an atmosphere also

water and the land breath

 

through stone through river through

caverns entered into whoosh

whistled function on loss less

blooded than brooded upon

yet records kept would demonstrate

growth an upward reach of green

 

wind settles even nettles green means

yes or so a whisper is

a whistling through so effort is

less loss than entry into

growth as seems the river merely

letting go and leaning with full blood

 

in rush blush of iced fall in

to slide through arteries of

rock not stood upon  /  there

s hope in that  /  that in hope

shatter a shutter opens still

against the flat light laid upon it

 

darkness frames at first what

little light inlaid could pierce

in theory arteries or one

thin way that stillness holds

apart the single quiet ice

pre-surface fall

 

through the slipslide

grace or grimace silent

lies turned inward

groaning rocks ground

through into under

world wantoned before

 

some larks clean space

aboveground and thin

wisps of soft lines

drizzle from the trees

where grace slips

into being worlded

 

before and aft error

rides a harder blow

bare trees bending never can

sustain / that note boomed

low and cunning  / branches

dripping something not named tears

 

named nothing’s-much-

like-anything, and anymore

the slippage below water

marks to-scale candescence

over time gestural beneficence

reflects what may abound in mind

 

what mind in abundance found

reflection in such flat and

stagnant waters that that gest

ure float beneficent not torn

as bomb smeltering broken

bodies scatter sub lime / liminal

 

on worn approach reflective

closure plays open upon

a welter tamed for now

lobbed over the net limning

a field of water scented

like rose in mind and real

 

Copyright © Sheila E Murphy & Douglas Barbour, 2007

 

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