Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Falling Out of Touch

Falling Out of Touch

And I think about all of us now scattered
in the world each still riding in the body
we were given looking out the eyeholes
not at one another Occasionally I have
been moving and living as a tentacle lives
Outstretched and flailing forward And then
have been slurped back into the body with
the thought Remember this Remember
your own body here seeing this
I recall doing this in the hallway outside
my sixth grade classrooms Blue lockers
Math textbook jutting into me while I
carried it A dog-eared page to say this
is when I felt that sleep could pounce
Each of us now in our beds Each of us now
in our bedrooms Perhaps this is how we go
on knowing one another without speaking


  1. The wandering punctuation-less pace, the vivid images of memory, and those last lines . . . another great poem!

  2. Wow! The dream that is not the dream - a few poetic nuggets - words - for it at least.


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