meditations on secrets - #1

1.

there's something in those looks
creeping on the edges of eyes
slipping around corners of mouths
suggesting flashes like rain

I don't believe in secrets
when that thin line etched
between action and silence
cuts apart that facade

it leaves me vacant as walls
crumble

clearly this means
nothing is really mine
except by extention
I can grasp everything

the fluid world dilates
like a mother ready to birth
sharply contracts
pushing

2.

sometimes I think I was born in silence
like the needle slipping
the end of the record scraping
in rhythm

3.

don't ask me who I am
just observe

the smallest twitches
simmering sighs
and fields beyond fields
rolling grass blades
spinning snow flurries
drifting down canyons

distant movement
shimmering
under dusk-lit deserts

say nothing of me
just observe
the subtle seasons

4.

and you

I know just enough
to always want more
for myself