Poem in Progress
I've been working on this for a couple of weeks now. I feel like the writing is coming back, but s l o w l y. This is the first piece in a long time that I've felt I might actually finish. The first in a very long time that I've come back to without feeling utterly defeated. It's not a draft so much as a fragment, but it's a start.
Greeley Park There was a glimmer once of something we called
Between the half-sun and the half-broken promise
etween tof it, there is a place to sink
our toes into the dead grass and wait
Betdsdfdfgfgween for silence to lapse into answers.
beautiful, and there is a lifetime of feeling ourselves
so bone-heavy that it floats above our heads,Betwasdfsdfsdfsadfsdfasdfeen the beyond our reach.
One might say our passion is inarticulable.
fffffOne might say it is a drumbeat on a dry plain—
Betfffffween ta skin-covered hollow
fffffout of which the unboundaried language
Betwfdfdfdfdffdfdfddeen t of rhythm blooms.
The yellow cactus flower announces water,
but can we weather the crucible of spines?
fffffOne might say it is the unbearable sound of—
ssfffffdfsds not joy,
asdfafffffsdfaasmsdfbut its echo.
