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So I tell myself there’s no need
to look for myself all over again
because I already found it

oncein a place not here
before I came here

a place that was music
and a low-lit backdrop
to every revelation

and where every molecule of me
vibrated to the frequency
of the universe

but maybe that’s just
the loneliness talking

toeing the line


…..understanding how
a good thing can be
possessed for a while
and not be kept forever

…..and being unwilling
to go without it

and the whole blank canvas
that comes after the crossover
asking for renditions of absence
…..and emptiness
and how they’re supposed
to harmonize
with the busier parts

the curlicues and plaids
blending into skylines
…..and blood
……….and gradients of fire
the edges bold and final
like ink black
holding inside what cannot be lost
if I were to remain intact

and not be the sincerity
that gets mugged
somewhere in the South Side
or the February song
that freezes to death
on the lake shore
waiting to be sung

in this place that breaks
the calm tension in my surface
with its cold fingers,
leaving ripples and
disturbing the aesthetic
of my composition

but itself refuses to be touched

or maybe that’s just
the loneliness talking

Image by photographer Nelwin Uy


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