Justice, drop your ‘at most’ nowhere at all appearance,
bring your anticipation of who is at fault to the learning curve,
to the community dinner,
unwrap your sublimity and just receive the light,
the torch touch of the accurate century.
I consider you an extension of this ruin,
this spirit enmeshed in the small open,
venting its miracle of all effects.
Spare me the equivalency, there is starvation here,
people do not vary, they are rooted- side by side,
your water is exhausting- do nothing at times,
but you imagine a material blanket, are you from that human world?
Are you glad to be sophisticated?
Let me tell you what is happening:
Children are being born into the disappearance of love,
into the overabundance of food and shelter
but the lack of divinity called ‘paper-proper’.
Men are becoming mentally unreal, for their world,
their progeny,
brutality is transmitted everywhere with great potential
for multiplication,
and no one endures deep within.
There is a sonogram of this silence,
it is your ambivalence, your impossible human justice,
your abstract poetry nesting in the muscular materialism of our lives.
Do you need hope? The fold where the coming
pours into? Clarity, bitten from within.
Explain it to me, slowly, and then louder-
that boundary being within the world, I think.
I am stepping into the wound to force out its promise,
its water and weakness pulling the pronouncement
toward its other place,
the empty stigma embodied, our lives, barely
a development rendered/remembered
if there is any
half swallowed
not-named-fruit,
the depth of the sound begins its longer version
from here-
resistance is its only kindness.
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