|Oct/Nov 2013 Poetry|
Electronic/fiber artwork by Phillip Stearns
A Long Human Silhouette
Dragged uphill by the need for it,
like a runner dehydrated out in the bluffs
of language, heaving the contents of words,
hot acidic air: just the elements.
At the top of the road I know there is a touchable sun,
that it too is just open space, potentially, like me.
I don't reach it,
knowing I can't take it back with me.
And there's no doubt about going back down.
If we could be alone on this ridge for long,
we'd all be ascending it and disappearing over the edge,
but we head back down with heavy hearts:
we need each other.
What are we?
Gauguin's painting: a primal thought
with a lot of learning and diluting dripped on.
Everyone likes a bit of loneliness
now and then.