Sculpting 9

9
BREAK
It is

POSSIBLE--- To be left in peace for words, sleep, and words asleep--- BUT NOT. Hounded by the clinks of the register of tasks; There is no rest from this--- AGING--- Aged by all these transformations, covering the graying--- That itchy shock--- The mind wanting to shut down, entrapped---IT--- Just wants to curl and pause------------------------------
It is non-stop pounding, forging and spending---Water, This sweat running through clenched fists, open palms, these gestures of futility. Oh to decide--- What then would it be to
BREAK: A break--- through it--- allow that control to slip unto-----------------------------
The Heart BREAKING: Fancies of a Goddess in control of the Universe.


9
MOTHERS
Out of the song "IT'S RAINING MEN---"

THINK that if nature were indeed a woman, she would be a single mother. Think of Mothers:

There's a daughter whose mother she hasn't seen nor spoken to nowadays; Mother is afraid of her daughter.

There is an eldest daughter, a sister grounded by grinding motherhood, alone herself and she says she's content being vicarious.

There's a second daughter, a sister that is a mother even then and now a woman wanting to feel how it is to be with a man again. She says her heart is already owned by home and it is held by home, anxious.

Then there's a baby, a sister who is a mother--- for almost six years having healing and happiness with time of three children; she sometimes tires, mostly still a child playing a mother and wife. She is older, though reverts to being a child with her sisters.

And yes there's the moon, womanhood mother who's been silent and distant. Tell her that she is remembered yet distance kept remains distant.

"---HALLELUJAH!" NOT.


9
DOLPHIN
Dear friend

NATURE is about transformation--- do not resist it; do not think that a flake--- the heat of summer, falling in love--- is a fluke to be regretted. The universe is vast and things unfold-- Unknown--- Only to be revealed in time. Not the kind to be a flake and a fling. It is that fall--- Fell--And for the fluke that comes once in lives to usher a transformation; a re-birth.

Well, now, how does it feel to be a blink?

This is the truth---- The heart is not broken; It is simply the heart's expectations frustrated. So there are impulses, things done, all to ease the frenzy of being a Black Hole.

Dolphin, friend, do not want to be a goddess--- Untouchable---Be a woman. Hush, do not shrill--- come up for air and do not obsess---It all passes. The secret is not in the lines of boxes or burying. It is in living with ghosts.


9
PICTURES
The satisfaction

IN sitting and sweating, only to move from one chore to another, and to sit and sweat once more. To be a picture of glottal stops--- outside is a fricative. Perhaps it is the color of orange, fading red--- sometimes to not know if there's a rise or a fall--- all in limbo in this heat.

Step out of the frozen pain. The air is being crushed out of air and so simmer; choke.


9
UNFROZEN
Speaking of equations

OF MATTER--- The heart can be frozen to stop from breaking. All that rage and violence, the ensuing loneliness from betrayal becoming an overripe fruit. Now plucked and savored by a fluke--fucked-- the equation says "In love" and it is called such.

It is fickle, and left this silence in pendulum, swinging between explanations and consolations, this frustration eating, masticating unto grinding teeth. Only, it comes out as a screech, a wail tried to be shushed by the palm---

No, this clenched fist stuck in the mouth, swallowed sound, now a stone choking your chest...And then, howl.

Think to control it? No, no dear, can only manage it. Mange these feelings---Resent---that hold unto a vise---It is exhausting, yes. And messy like cemented mud, bog, and dirt.

The cold says, "Why do you think I remain a stone?" Yet, yet it comes--- time, this-- and the cold is unfrozen. Sting from all these---feeling. The matter steps back, back, back there is a mirror, look:

Transformation, the middle, is macabre beauty. And the heart becomes a trampoline--- Ride the swinging.


9
WIND
Comes in

THIS HEAT,remembers a night drinking in this very corner, waiting. At midnight, the door opened. And with the sunrise was love--- falling, arising. In this very corner, it remembers ghosts.