Thursday, November 20, 2014
5 poems || Felino A. Soriano
from Forms, migrating
path-shove notion needed expanse,
of hands in the needing origami clear-clarity
this life of woven ceremonies cannot certainty-with mention sans celebrated
archives of what the need benefits in representational accolades
—and/or when queries exist about birth’s needed range of creative
what holds in
harmony of inflection’s tonal adaptations
of patterned expectations
engage and expand
position then portend
—for H. Holt
quality perfect-bound echo variations, prose and purpose
pronouncing aliases among what
portending acclimated rituals design-query prominence
to gauge and
produce linguistic mathematics
—after effort’s summation of existence’s gilded affirmation s
promising aim toward what insinuates personal satisfaction
said enough into querying the body’s need to causational pause
we must allow
what writes freedom across the forehead
install frequent purposes
into what hold in the pocket well of permanent desire to interact with
What was written into palms
the mother’s role of permissive eloquence?
who wears what hides well within the context of borderline accessibility
the child’s innocence, halved within the mirror of a rotating infatuation?
how do rivalries exclaim ambition
physicality of abridged agendas, the fade of performance through tiredness’ undulation?
sensory illusion often awakens alphabets of tonal acceleration, landing and hiding to where moments fade or find languages of what hides and holds in percussive affirmations?
Imitating tongue, I know their names. And theirs. Their
bodies, I do not ideate into instable hands. In knowing
throats of birds—I know elaborate features. Piano solos.
Whatever signals name themselves, my pockets cannot contain
mouths when hidden or exposed. Nuances of a shy oscillating singing.
I want to watch what works well. Query that advantage
and have my hearing quadruple checked. I’ve used
crows to draw crowds of syllables from curtain
-slide diagrams, and move into the position of unconcealed
empathy. The pathos of wings reuses song to organize
wealth. And when illustrated, the body is heavy, useable
at best in the painted version of an elusive figurine.