Jean Vengua/ The Aching Vicinities / 6


The Need

"I" begins another round. The light touches lightly
~
on the pencil, and the streets listen with busy
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flushings of water through the pipes. Grains of
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asphalt tightly woven in meshes of vortex are
~
called tar. By adding a 't' to vortex an old need
~
to finish thought lingers like pollen or varnish
~
on the end table. It is likely the ides will happen
~
predictably. Her last name is Bird. Two lovers will
~
die repeatedly within a line of poetry; sun touches
~
from a distance the worn rim of a glass, her glasses.




As if

you
look softer
she said, as if




It’s Nothing

I'm walking. I am not making anything. I'm not making a poem. I am not walking. I'm thinking. I'm not thinking about anything. There is silence. I'd rather not know. I don't know anything. I am going nowhere. I am nowhere. I am making nothing. I'm making something. Something happens, as I see it. It happens. It's nothing. This is something.

 
 
 
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