In Passing

As moments begin and continue
And the vibrancy of Life sallows
with the incomprehensible stasis
of experience,
Knowledge appears. -
Shrouded in impenetrable plaster,
Caked with rotting youth:
To know myself
I must know the Other.

In seeking,
My body grows weary
And understanding, repulsive.

It is thus that I become most lost
and see only eyes
as if
by engaging another's senses with my own
I might fasten upon
a steadfast something.

But eyes, How they move!
Grasping, not holding
Knowing and not remembering,
They receive the world
and give their wearer.
Alive and searching,
the world is their task
and master.

Were our eyes to meet,
It would mean an end to motion
And our world
So they do not meet.
But rather, they recognize
and become each other's
constant change.

Upon waking/ The workaholic

I inhale the feeling of his eyelids
upon my heart
which sings only to him -
the rhythms of sleep.
Then he lifts his head
and the pounding bursts
out of me to fill the room
and hold (swimmingly, with blood)
his mind, bound to the tides
of my body.

When nightmares end,
I know that the light thuds
are his feet.
And blood: the flush of
dawn upon my cheeks.