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

Going Doorless

 

                   

We think we remember but do we?

Are we not always there-here?

 

When words empty the world does not

the emptying of words is a doorway

 

to the world without doors

we’ve always lived in

 

imagining it worded;

that was long ago, this is now,

 

there is yet-to-be.

The doorless world does not need definition

 

or memory, only presence.

What we truly shed lets it be for us.

 

When we have lived without words long enough

we regain some of them

 

not quite the same but recognizable

as ghosts that once haunted us

 

now come as openings,

as fellow castaways.

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