
28 Feb 2011
Dismissed
There is a sadness in my bones, today
thoughts come
I live between little ridges on quarters
The worn, marked places
That are neither heads nor tails,
It knows no perversion, yet.
I live in the reality of memory
The terrible, beauty of present history
That is neither reconcilable nor repeatable,
It knows only pauses.
I live with the tension
The binary, goodness of our pursuits
That are neither holy nor pure,
It knows not shalom or sheol.
I live around converters
The grimy, puzzled territory
That is neither satisfied nor unsettled,
It knows only adulterated intentions.
I live inside hearts
The tender, syncopated enigma
That is neither beating nor buried,
It knows nowhere to run.
There is a sadness in my bones, today
thoughts come and prick at my heart.
