One Way

Into the beyonds.

small archilochus colubris bird soaring near cypress vine flowers in sunlight

To set off, advancing, arms folded over stems: tulip, iris, gladioli, desert rose–– down a path of forking tongues, the question ever which branch, now? ––and be content to dance around an emptiness and never satisfied, to be always on the way and getting nowhere, arms scratched with low branches, thorns; ankles bitten with flying questions, the bloodsuckers biting a frenzy, each new itch auguring branches to come, and know this is happening now, the meaning, it is happening all over you, and never try to catch its supple forms in feeble nets, knowing each tool too insignificant to hold any single marvel, capable only of taking a wandering body––just as scratched and bitten––from its true glory, the act of moving out and out, beyond itself.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

3 thoughts on “One Way”

    1. I’m not always conscious of it, but you’re right – I suppose this is a constant theme. Thanks for highlighting this, Alex! Helps me see.

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