Indigo Hawkins
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Kinetics Of Self

Rating: 5.0
this month I began a new cycle
of creation-resignation-perpetuation.
who am I, and who are you?
if only I knew, if only I knew:
what more there is to me,
what more there is to be.
swept up by music beyond measure,
the undulating rhythmic grace
unifying time and space,
has fettered me in place, but my pace
spirals off beat. I can’t stay in my seat;
my feet stick on repeat repeat repeat
defeat: that aggravating deceit
replaying in my mind until I find
some logic, a rhyme or note or fallacy
to balance out the scale for me
so the past will remain behind, not rewind-
these fluid moments weren’t cast to last,
but the meter won’t abide-
whatever the frame, they’re all the same
past, present, and future collide
consolidating into a single somnolent hush
so this slue of thoughts ebbs with a rush
of exhaled energy, shifting from neurosis to narcosis
in an instant, distant and resistant, and
so, so quiet but still NOT still, anything but
what do you fear, and why
are you afraid? let’s continue the charade
for both of us, it is one word, two syllables:
Myself. Yourself.
the answers come as questions.
who am I? Myself.
who are you? Yourself.
can it really be as simple
as the barbwire dimple
in your smile, or the pallor
of my skin-the drive to win,
your prejudices, my addiction,
our mutual love of science fiction,
plums, and popcorn, or our differing view
on life, spontaneity, and what is true?
who are we?
how do we not know?

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4/11/2021 10:47:18 AM #