Friday, March 25, 2016

Felino A. Soriano, Of this Momentum song (twenty-one)


Posttribulation Rising of Melt, image by Daniel Y. Harris & Tom Daley 


Of this Momentum song (twenty-one)

A great fire burns within me,
but no one stops to warm
themselves at it, and
passers-by only see a
wisp of smoke

―Vincent van Gogh


   Again, awoken, melody
  of an hour’s writing
      soothe-pulls direction
    pushing play
               into
 purpose of why pulsing
     pulls from distance
  distance as memory,
                     the
      dead, not discarded
   opens among the window’s
        silence           hides from
                                within
    clarity of mouth
  mouth as momentum
      with enough versions
                        continu


                                       -ing to read to us…
                                      we listen to learn
                                          learn as diagramed
                                             precise occultation
                                         we’re protected
                                                        here
here as paradigm
  a home to query
 and never but
   fully return
           toward…

 this is the word
hearing others’
  speech demonstrates
               as
 wandering wears our
   pivots, our ballet
 reinterpretations
                 smooth


                                       as to live the way
                                      pianoing ensures us
                                         privileges us through
                                       listening as virtuous
                                      grade and fulfilled
                                          oscillatory blend
                                                         of
eyes and the purpose
 they invent prag
 -matic perception…
                  we
       drum to encourage
     faith in the sound
  inviting stay and
          gradational minds
                         to
fold-in, to crease
 as to keep what
  stays within us
              us

     as with nothing other
   we hold these hands
         the way morning
     awakens to
                evoke


what the dead
                                    writes into
                            what hears
   what breathes
at capacity, prior
               to
   illusion under
 -standing our song’s
                 unified
    animation



—Felino A. Soriano

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