I’m piecing you together today, and the You I’ve always known—
the one in the desert that I’ve brought myself into Find.
We entered a space without place together in Utero.
It reverberates.
To those in act of recognizing the Hum of importance,
it is a sort of Calling back home.
I cannot go Home.
Old mother of my mother, who first met the man of the man I know,
the man I once saw in Odds of Two,
even when stood alone in his Cell for days in solitude.
What learning is there to receive by correction of Evening out someOne?
It is true—or so I heard—
that when I have grown out
all my Lashings,
shaking the caskets where ashes Reside.
In death’s last breath, some Echo astounds me:
what uttered my Father,
the One who now has become my Surroundings?
In lack of his Sun, what Uttered his tongue?
Or what’s spent of the Young when Angels of God came and found him?
I miss you in Zeros.
In shapes of the days left by heroes.
Craters of rock.
Depressions my Earth of an Idol.
A figure of Voice I’ve forgotten.
The shape of the pulls of his Slur, Oxycontin.
Yellow it rottens the Whites of an Eye,
submerges Toxins.
What’s become Emerged:
an old friend was calling,
Recalling the name of an Urge—
my father in Dirt.
When Suddenly Sons become Become stars before sleep,
a dream in disguise.
Running it thin as a Lie—
clocks become sins,
don’t send the Goodbye.
At least then it seems that again—
I could see you in time.
∆Remember Us∆ 