Saturday, November 19, 2011

haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

Posture's tincture modestly abbreviates the slurs already mispronounced.
The screen neglects riposte. If you were she (not her) whom would you
bring (plus-one) to the festivities around neglect? Our year begins
when we declare freedom to selves twirled around beanpoles
maypoles, daybeds, tool sheds. Our resilience comes from mutuality, like
springs (as plural as you please) apart from seasons, cars, and mattresses.
I want to dance inside the cortex of another person's diffidence, to
undermine complicity of shrill free will. I would rather be a DJ than
platonic likelihood of turning food. And equally, I would prefer
to dust the shadow of a full life with goose down than drift toward night
earned by routine. For now, one's sturdy ritual becomes another person's
impact on the fraught.

Mandatory meetings, phantasms overcome by actuality, tin whistle versus
pencil late at night

Sheila E. Murphy

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