Post #6

Photo by William Eggleston

Untitled
Kimberly Wang

cracked pavements and
suburban lawns choked with purple-flowered weeds;
when I was a barefoot child
I took my time in walking and in waiting
in wanting and in the wanting of. It takes time
to build a mesh-grid of overlapping words
sounds consonants constant jajaphony
the idea that words are boxes - boxed in,
the meaning of brick and sawdust lost.

unsuffocated by the lingering of forgotten dreams
the suppressed lying stagnant, the subconscious gasping
reading the sky out loud was my only job as a nine-year-old.
-- one cloud :: we'll be stifled, I'm near drowning
so I go, cross-legged at the lake
and sink, watching the gradient of green
the graduation the gradation of mildew in our water
and the clear bubbles I blow, rising
the view from below darker and darker still

we have learned to sit on the front porch
with a pitcher of ice water, condensation affected
by a crude&romantic law, Hessian, Gaussian, Ozymandian,
words tumbling over picked lips
a careless spell, an effortless prayer,
sit still and learn the dance of chemexotic fireflies.

the shade creates a world of difference
but to be chased by sunlight on your back
east west every day, can make a tiresome journey.
a galaxy of separation is not enough
in the end
I'd do anything, right anything, for a cold spot
that reminds me of how rich my childhood was
color filtered and I see green only (green
bricks and green
sawdust)
still struggling for the words to bring me home.