to the heart that is still beating

to the pulse that will find me here,
to the pulse that will find me here—
oh horizon, you’re a grave
in your distance i will brave
to the heart that’s still beating
to the heart that won’t fade away

to the pulse that will find me here,
to the pulse that will find me here,
oh horizon, you’re a grave
in the distance i stand brave

devotion is the gospel,
is the promise,
is our home

my mind alone
cannot devise
the difference between model
and metaphor

neither poetry or machinery
we are not the either/or

the delicate notion

the delicate notion

the trailed fingered motion



for
in the absence of
for



there can only be a reposition

length of their metaphors

they were
the length of their
metaphors
afar from where
they were

a thoughts length between them
with no where to confer