all’s not always almost disconcerting…

all’s not
always
almost
disconcerting
nor possibly
hopefully
cynically
apophasis
nor in some way
however obscure
surely fierily
offensive
or just plain wrong,
i live
by your burning threads
entangled
in smoldering webs
waiting
watching
wondering
if i’ll
ever see
the end.

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one more day, closed ambiently…

one more day
closed ambiently
stagnantly
summer
covered over
fallen below
the sound of green stillness
smells a certain way
held on
gathered up
and sustained
as self
i hold health
but know not forever
waiting or denying
just holding
patience
for hope
and a feeling
ever-deepening
of conscience,
reconciliation,
and waiting
for an army of myself
outside
or a single beautiful bride
within or without.