October Window

by normal

“I am the blossom pressed in a book
Found again after two hundred years — ”
— Jane Kenyon — Briefly It Enters, and
                                Briefly Speaks

october window

it is hard to break out of the solitary
it is harder to break out of the indifference of separation
to look out across space & see the eyes of another looking back maybe as
another land across the sea
maybe as an island, forgetting somehow,
it is all connected underneath.

& so the drift, which refuses to read between the lines
& oh m’gosh, shall i see you at the next war
& did i not see you once before, 10,000 yrs ago
     sitting at the same table in our family portrait
     hanging on a pre–historic painting?

it is hard to break out of oblivion
the first step has depth which is immeasurable
the buzz of silence grows louder all the time.

as the worshipping womb serves up its own version of etcetera
as the season of beauty is bludgeoned cold by the family beast
as in the uncompartalised life there is no place to hide
& oh m’gosh, it is another rainy day.

the last October leaves are falling
i am sitting by the window, once again
almost nothing beside me anymore
looking at old snapshots.
                                                             oct /19