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Journal


Within you will find
Many holes, entries I didn’t want
To be read, couldn’t bear to be
Missing, places torn, blotted out,
Undone by necessity.

Instead of a this only that, a naught
Over time increasing, a maturity, a
Burning away, a clearing, so to speak.
Fill it in as you will, it becomes a blind
Imagining, less than a world

Whose spiraling grasses and stars
Keep a secret alive, within reach
Of all who are kin,
Who increase, over time, this privacy,
Holding a candle to it as it multiplies.

On a day without day  
This planet again will be stone,
A cavern without water or flesh, a skull  
Devoid of countenance, anonymous,  
Ready to express anything, including

Emptiness, the journal of a god     
Whose eye sockets, once,
Were tunnels of love where someone 
Such as yourself dwelled long ago—
I’m passing through one

Slowly as possible now,
I do not want to reach the
Other side (you know what I mean
If you followed me here somehow
With your hands, your eyes).