A contemporary poem about two things stay down, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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The stone stays down because it is stone. The seed stays down because it is becoming. We lie beside each other, undecided. Your hand finds the mattress in the dark. Mine finds your wrist. There are forces no instrument records— the ones that keep a person here.
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A thing without a practical name resists ownership and remains open to a less instrumental way of seeing.
A contemporary poem about the way the body misreads, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
A contemporary poem about what holds between us, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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