This Could be Fabricated
Don’t want to know what happens.
Larger than life; epically grand. Just give me the extra mile ! If you call it a
____________, it’s a _________________. You define what is familiar. Don’t
the homophones all sound like “you.” Make me: everything.
*
Here’s the story:
We always bring inside us: a meal; a meal of light. Above it; beneath it; in the stars it is still larger than life – ahhhh those night-rafters. The way we hide in the truth; the way we hide the truth; the way we think we don’t fragment it, but we do and we do and we do and we are scattered like the pearled shine on a scaled-fish. Haphazard and jigsawed; candy-colored and pastel-ed.
::forget what this all means::
I want to divide predecessors; staunch the wound – Enough. Enough!! I will reduce the desire to reduce. Will change my vernacular; will change the gaze and the glare; re-direct the night onto something readable. [Readibility is over-rated] It’s in the doing; it’s in the making; it’s in the believing in what is fudged-over; mistaken; forgotten or forged.
*
It is all just a function of time; of heart-light. Here, this is what melds things; what glues and sticks. Look past the steel still frame. Past the beamed-heart. Past what is passed.
© Umansky 2011
blog of poet, leah umansky 
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