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it's all teeth and eyes.
the sense of.
it tells who you are.
with glasses and braces and mold,
the aches, wisdom, squinting and
witnessless.
we beg ourselves for a knowing.
and once known, stop sensing.
insert image, gouge eyes.
insert food, cut off tongue.
and we'll let others tell us
who we are from then on.
tell us how much and where to.
tell us our names. our skin and gender.
without reminder, we'd forget.
but nevermind, a chorus chants it loudly,
often for many in perfect verse, the deep
melody of you and me throughout time infecting
and changing to direct mood and atmosphere.
yet for some, a counter melody occurs, the slow
progression of a greater beat, that almost scares
us, daring to marvel, the
lids sown shut over empty sockets,
and tongue disallowing question.
we'll stand unnerved. perhaps begging. begin
to take a seat, and often the chorus will alter
and the beat will resolve, yet the mind has been
moved.
suddenly the skin feels the ground. a presense
below in sudden ominousness. sensation!
from without society.
a knowing unpresent in the pixels retained in
the image of your .
and how can you tell someone? how can you create?
your hands move the dirt around you and you feel the
grains sliding, forming ridges and valleys, the
shape perhaps of letters as well.
letters.
what wonderful things they were. the weighting down
of that which flies about.
the hardening of a soft thing to touch it and not
destroy it so that it could slip away again moments
later and be soft again.
to see to touch.
so we look around eyes sewn shut over empty sockets.
wishing.
jesus cured the blind and mute who had faith in it.
perhaps, we too.
to touch to see.
the chorus fades in not such a lowering of sound,
but as a focus of attention.
the locative image of the earth in our hands, the
smoothing and clearing in time with the rememberance
of a beat uncooperative with our previous taste.
bigger than our mouth.
brighter and finer than our focus.
this new thing. this escape from what we believed
to have enslaved us, the new sensing, in time has
and will transform us.
our identity in time with our own beat and shape.
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