There Is Where Is

It is common to think
that the logic that nurtures
the future out of the past
is a creature that stalks
its prey its predicates
in the common light of day.

In the wide streets and lit up
foyers and hallways well-tred
all we see are the effects
of shoes on floors, the pale
aftermaths of many passings
covering up the patterns.

To get a good glimpse
where else would we peer
where could we stand to get
perspective clear enough
with just the right detail
to put a finger on it?

It’s that time of night
to travel to where
the noise falls off over
the edge of the world
and into the far-fetched
panorama of numbers.

Inclusively diminished
left where they were dropped
like shoes and socks
pinched and bent questions
stepped-over concerns
static in the dark.

There is somewhere a debate
between the frame and picture
somewhere a tightrope hooked
onto and between two poles
when you get there you’ll know
how moving is unmoved.

Every dream you’ve had
remembered or forgotten
every facial expression
telling you to walk away
were moments of balance
between full and empty.

The diagonals of fit are taut
the borders of input apologize
the word learned and turned
into lessons barely appreciated
have been haunting like ghosts
your repeated seances.

Like the oceans sit
in rugged bowls dwarfing
the pond we stand in
but is still contained
heaven held in the palm
of a man with memory.

So you and I should be
like the book willing
to be opened to exactly
the appropriate page starting
with the best word possible
to describe the transition

from last year’s patter
to yesterday’s principle
from the bottom of an odd
page to the top of even
the passage between nada
while holding the thought

the perfectly unexpressed
point to all the note-taking
the hopeful key-tapping
the ordering from muddy
start to dry caked finish
from crowded to deserted.

There is where is
the slightest attention
a propensity a trend
a usually ignored and handily
logic to the disparate
barely touching tangents.

Excuse me while I
sweep my fingers over
the gravel of experience
until I come across
that there where
everyone met.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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