poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Bordering on Emptiness

Passages have no closely-watched borders
a riverbank dissolves when closely seen

as moments of seeing
rabbit, hedgehog, owl in moonlight

night pales into morning; then the fading,
fabled dawn cannot be found

having been young we are suddenly old
save only in the imaginary closet of ‘memory’

we guard imaginary borders
because they’re only closed when guarded

guarding isn’t watching, as guarding
unknowingly but plainly admits

by its persistence while edges
keep vanishing like smoke

we are over here, you are over there;
seen up close there is no ‘there’

in the plain-speak of closely watching
we are all Here with momentary edges

of wings, oars, words, knives in-use
cutting air, water, any not-quite-rend-able fabric

whose cuts close quickly a border
is an illusion of a permanent edge

which no use has, has no use
it is ready to see

from nothing nothing comes
guarded or unguarded it’s a nihilist’s lunch

through emptiness’ welcome everything arrives
watched or unwatched it’s a wordless babe

beneath the threadbare skirt of nothingness
the velvet thighs of emptiness are working

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