The metaphor that is us

The metaphor that is us

That the metaphor could be us (&—ourselves)
is just what someone
much too wise (and/or crazy)
might say (and yet where’s the differerence?).
As a something—to be–,
no—not in the things—
but in the way
that we are…. that they are…
each thing’s selfness and same-ness…
their distant far-ness and nearness.
Just like a wide-open field
projected to points
that can never be quite known.
For the whole of this field is still needed
to embrance just this one
point .
(Among so many others).
The one that is us (= ourselves)
or something just slightly else (that is us?)
that can never quite be known.

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3 cheers for munster quark

3 cheers for munster quark

Hours hath turned
among the dunes and waves.
A lake of blood
and a tear,
bubbling brewing
slightly over
the edge of this land.
With a hand
pushing rocks
like a betlee,
rolling each wheel
of great machines,
half-beat measures of life
and all warmth,,,,
the other judged now
as death,,
the most frozen
of fingers
and edges.
nearly splitting from shaking.
with a fracture
just from moving at all,,
about and alongside
this here one ground.

As a ship
in between… summer’s crown
and the greenest of frost.
Breaking open and loose
with this here one bottle,
spinning in time
or a tide,
with an eye
collapsed
by a hook,
turning back
all the sands and hands of time
as a cheer
echoes forward
across this star-board.