what we don’t, we become


under this sun stereographed

with rain with under this

something moves too fast to discern

you blame your eyes.

what others you know known

other. when moves the fallout

ground, “silence,” we said. always and lips

to fingers the people you had fleet

ravens with were.

not condensed into anything pure not

the substance the staff the mantra,

alimented/lioned/segregated the short

bitter slices the short bitter knot the

bit flatterers hold court, gathering fire

fingers still to lips smelling now of kerosene

of class still. sundered as thought.

it’s not a train

– a moon

– some star, a reflection of a star

it’s not a circuit

it’s not your heart

what we don’t, we become.


accordingly Sunday on

radio drama partly

cloudy. identity develops rapid

“do not blame your eyes,” and

“do you know who,”

and so on. the results, when mobile,

call each environment

and a few fingers


compression is not clear,

ownership of your mantra

alimented to cup short lioned

pain; a full period of transition.

fire but met the judge.

environment fingers today, wary:

petroleum cocaine class arrested.


with no training

the moon

reflects the number won;


your heart

what we need to know.


gathering in droves of the mostly concerned, corner,

have turned eyes their eyes have turned it takes an

infant six months or more we can do it in an hour.

what we don’t, we become.


One Response to “what we don’t, we become”

  1. Thanks for posting this. I enjoyed reading it very much. Reading and writing poetry relaxes me and I think it’s soothing for the soul. Great job.

    A Poem for Mothers

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