A Case of You (4)


it is not so long since

you fell away

into unexpected distance

and fragmented silence,

and yet, as in knowing you,

it fills a lifetime.


this summer night

wraps me in your absence,

warm and stitched

by wired crows

blackly drawn

on electric staves

scratching empty sky

with torrid blues.


dusked and lost

I walk in circles as

you crystallize in me,

a rose between my ribs,

wild surf in my eyes,

brambles penetrating bone,

hot winds across my thighs

and a dislocation

in my reaching hands.


I wonder how it is for you

to have me rolling

in your highway head

like a loose marble

in a roaring train;

rattling, tickling, falling

between bare legs

under your clutch,

sounding a different beat

to the radio’s song.


this is a space of consequence,

a chant of meditation,

a cello in an empty church,

the long cry of a loon,

howling of ragged wolves

in moonlight

and all the choirs of my heart

calling you home.


/ art and poem by clinock /

10 thoughts on “A Case of You (4)

  1. This is just fantastic. A rolling carnival wagon of images and textures and thoughts. I really feel like I’m in a time and place of wooden wheels and somebody in touch with such textures. Very emotional and I can see how the images reflect/relate to the words of loss.


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