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the sum of my parts
it’s the
all of you that gets me
not the some of you,
the sum of you
that brings me to my knees even when
i am in partition
long division
circumvision
vision
of your body beautiful
and mine that mirrors
all your movements
moving to the stars
with you
Follow her
At the Gym
This salt-stain spot marks the place where men lay down their heads, back to the bench,
and hoist nothing that need be lifted but some burden they’ve chosen this time: more reps,
more weight, the upward shove of it leaving, collectively, this sign of where we’ve been: shroud-stain, negative
flashed onto the vinyl where we push something unyielding skyward, gaining some power
at least over flesh, which goads with desire, and terrifies with frailty. Who could say who’s
added his heat to the nimbus of our intent, here where we make ourselves: something difficult
lifted, pressed or curled, Power over beauty, power over power! Though there’s something more
tender, beneath our vanity, our will to become objects of desire: we sweat the mark of our presence onto the cloth.
Here is some halo the living made together.
—From Source by Mark Doty, published by HarperCollins, 2002
and there is a world!
see it, place your hands on concrete in the sun
those hands which weave and waver, point and ponder
hands that, without the substrate of reality, would have no means to ground you
that world is your own!
break what bones have fused and sever tendons old
and let clarity set fire to anxious dissonance
be of your world, of your hands and concrete, and be free!
the man made monoliths stand against your will
remarks of the past that stand on chlorophyll corpses
yet thin soles echo the world
your world!
and like cracks in a sidewalk,
botany embraces the concrete jungle
docwhal, february 8th, 2018

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I bought the stupidest book today
12 17 22
11 - 13 - 22
What is there to say
About a man as cold as ice
With a heart made of fire?
Do your insides burn as you bite your tongue?
For good
And for bad
Eyes that never falter
Clearer than crystal
Deeper than oceans
More turbulent than any storm I have ever seen.
I see what lingers
Monstrous
And beautiful
In the depts of those icy waters
Like a siren, it draws me in
Begging me to drown.
But do I throw my fragile form
Again and again
Against the cold rocky cliffside
In hopes to breach the firey
Fathomless depths?
For, what can one speak of love
If not also commitment
Devotion is not born in the man
Who gives up on Everest by backing down
But in the one who climbs
Falls
And climbs again.
So though I am called
Like the flame calls a moth
I am often left to admire from afar and wonder
Who sings your song?
What calls to you?
For though I see the flicker
Behind walls of ice
I cannot know the taste of the flame
Lest the beast part his lips
And let me in