Father
Shiloh Melt Declares The Posttribulation Rise, image by Daniel Y. Harris
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
