Apparition Movement

The soul’s happy when paradise is etched
in electrics: spirits, living avalanche being pulled

toward falling voices. Dusted corners, smears,
chipped imprints don’t seem so dissimilar

to the skin I wear, carry out to the porch every night.
What we can’t see: laying a floor pebble by pebble,

mosaic for humanity to step all over, cracks
full of blue energy exerted. Search through silence—

Under what shelter, what skin can I find you again,
reaching for spirals of my hair, clavicle soft as lying?

I see the dull stars twinkle out of constellation, what
hush will come over us as we drift over decomposing

life, seeing nothing to change us. I don’t want to set
the world on fire to watch it burn, just to get some

sensation under the skin of ghosts still stuck in limbo
between grazing over the earth and condensing

to live inside, our bones like knives, they need sharpening:
too soft around edges. You know this land, slowly

sinking below sea level on a constant basis, don’t come
near… Some days remind me trouble happens

to everyone, while other days remind me sunrise grows
less luminous with its arc, more damp and shadowless.

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2 thoughts on “Apparition Movement

  1. your first statement hooked me. it vividly shows how we are drawn to spectacle. the rest of the poem, though, shows that paradise might be hard to find in a place where “trouble happens to everyone…” i enjoyed how the poem’s images pulled me along.

    Like

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