Impossible Social

it was there in knots of witness,
in nervous bundles of water:

the shining breath
whose unknowing unfurls a world.

empty, it begins
like bodies at rest, summer melons
stolen, empyrean,

then it spans out in full curve, untimed,
tossing shine aside
with mortal brush

and time is language dust
in sienna skies,
fossil flow like honey stuck
within sierra rock

if they see, it’s through darkened
cloth, holeless material
unpermissive of tiny flight
as the insects truth their ground,

or to let wounds alone when
as rain
their drops wish to pluralize

as if only something existed
which they wanted, rooted
in a garage of selfwords, stored
in their museums of selfworship

what does the impossible then,
when by strings of vision nothing
can be redeemed for pettycash feelings?

kites of breath, submerged,
back upon their heels in shadows
while sovereign teeth,
like social enamel, burn white
against the swelter of air

but this, too, shall crumble
in the end

it is sand itself
unglued,
buried
in its own ocean of secrets

 

(c) J. Celan Smith