Monday, March 5, 2018

Felino A. Soriano - from This How My Speaking Moves

Touch Sound Philosophy

         passion          pianoing into
the trumpet of my good hand’s attempt
at becoming translucent in behavior.
This duo of fathom:
two windows
two wisdoms
      :  mirrors into devotion I’ve
for my familial connection in teaching
my voice to move through a darkened
application of night’s ongoing streak of
achromatic monotony

Toward What it means to Never Misremember my Daughter
                                                                                                 --for Mia

From the intent of what my
spirit clarifies

                    which it means to dissolve histories or
 how hands crush bone with stronger bone
    into the voice’s uncertain meander
to search within a darkness’ unopened

Through the language of my family’s silence
their saying: do not die within the spectrum
of cancer’s predetermined timeline--

my own silence answers
    with the wish of ongoing
impetus           to visualize my
   smallness ignite toward
an even more accurate
     rendition of what my
mirror communicates in the
 acute language of solidified

In Knowing What Prophecy Removes


                    Vacant as
     the vertical
-ity of the body’s

slowed through miles and more so callings to
congregate beneath trees amid flesh and leaves’
unintentional desperation to tumble.

of us follow timeline
       visual cues: watching
     as crows rest upon single branch
  ratios, fair toward their unknowing
much more exists beyond how the talons
   grip with force to confirm rest
prior to absconding

like the death some of us will

Silence When Thought Overwhelms

          And when avalanches
respell a dedicated dialogue
       my best tongue’s version
reenacting happiness:

youth is the timeframe,
   far     not within the spectrum of distance,
 a burgeon becoming a version of self,
         how my language began its form
-ulation into pensive syllables
obtaining ornamental diagrams, oblong doors
misshapen to open for the oddities of

dispositional interpretations

No, When Needed

 when the spasm of
      aloneness scrapes the mouth’s
         freeing a spatial pain from

seeing the last breath twirl and evaporate

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