That Which Was Once One

Is still one and only.

Still, beating heart.

Still dining in silence.

Still stillness surrounding.

Why? Where?

Questions abound through the slick wet evening and made up answers traipse about. The cleaning up after, the waking point, where does it go like water running towards the patient drain. A missing waltz, overheard at midnight, you scoundrel, you scalawag, you day at the beach, I love you. The struggle, professor wanted to miss out on the struggle, but he’s already got it. The push and pull and panoptic eye exciting moments on repeat. Recorded and played back immediately, added to and looped into. Like leavened bread. Like kneading.

Needing.

That which was once one is still one and only.

It feels like it. Feels like blendingtogether inside a house of madness, when all I could wish for was a little silence or some static to keep out the cleverness. The mild interruptions here or there, the misinformed guru spilling out words refining the finer points.

In love with language, overheard.

So much so, yes, the answer keeps coming back, the very sounds spelling themselves together. That which was once one. Still is. Remains the same. Similar, even, even new. Frying out different rhythms.

The short stack hitting the barge witnessing the afterglow and light and love and shining capacities, feeling, but there is this want.

You heard of it? You heard of something greater? Leant in towards it and whispered inside its little ear. It is little ear, dancing bear, tiny lifted bones vibrating unto tongues. Back and forth.

The back and forth, wading like yesterday’s news come two days too late. It had already known and flown the coup. The mystery, unfolded and lambasted. I’m no drunk. I’m not drunk.

I’m drunk with love and there’s the cr-cr-crux of it, at a crossroads like like like like never stop and turn around, never see it to it’s end, just listen, little ear, to the tiny bones, the tiny bones know.

The duality saying yes, the duality hearing silent treatment on a Thursday. Give me a safe environment to speak and I’ll give you some safe speech.

I’ll give it to you wholesale, whole cheap. The whole point is to pick it up as you go along,

there is no other way. There is no desire.

Desire Desire Desire.

That which was once won is still one, still won, still twill be always the selfsame selfsame selfsame one. Times itself, into itself, folded up a thousand deaths and buried underground. Revved and loosened, theatrical and buzzard, lips and teeth and tongue made red with tannens and rich perfumes, drunk in the nose and mouth, drunk in the eyes, drunk in the spirit. Sober sober sober faced into the sign.

Wheels, wheel wheeling. Face, face facing. Sleep, sleep sleeping.

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