is meant to undo
like skin peeling away from time,
like a name dissolving in the mouth.
not to be read
the instant the gaze tries to fix it,
but fails—gloriously.
before it undoes itself, it is already noise,
it is already absence,
it is already the echo
of what refuses to be form.
in a poem, rhythm
that pulses like a fever,
that repeats like a failure,
that dances like an error.
that lacks decay
as if the collapse were still timid,
as if the abyss called for ornament,
as if the end demanded more beauty.
This poem does not want to be remembered.
It wants to be felt as loss,
heard as noise,
performed as failure.
Brilliantly penned, PAR. Excellent write per usual my friend. Always a pleasure to read your work my brother. Appreciate you.
Damian
Damian!!! Thanks.
Paulo!! How are you? Marvelous piece of writing. Your poetry always keep me thinking & wondering, while I balance on the edge of my mind.
Peace!
Insanity!!! Thanks.
The ending is a rock through a window! No peaceful moment within this write. It has an edge throughout. Impactful.
Such a strong write!
Styxian!!! Thanks.