moments of indecision
tended to be those
most pregnant with possibility
and hence were often
the most lucid
.
windowless
doorless
his home was many
and none
.
the most critical questions
he answered
not intellectually
but with his actions
or more importantly his inaction
.
then there were those stretches
sometimes days or weeks
when though still vivid
all seemed muffled
by the weight of the familiar
.
thoughts too had their forensic use:
to delicately dust for clues
of a missing self
.
tainted by the sun
he caught a glimpse
of what fed his sight
.
he thread his way
between the unacceptable
and the impossible
yet drove headlong into...
.
his life being a form of crude
via negativa,
it was only through pain that he learned
not to confuse the abyss of the wound
with selflessness.
.
one day
while out taking a stroll
he paused midstride
unblinking
his breath apparently suspended
after what seemed a brief dispersal
he resumed his saunter
noting with typical lack of concern
that the unremarkable
often had such an effect
.
he lived alone yet
more and more often
he found himself walking
across a room
or down the hall
as quietly as possible
and often on tiptoe
.
though prone to such shortcomings
he hoped to never again confuse
the
inexcusable with the
unforgivable
.
exhausted by the mundane
one merely had to settle
into the banal
.
there were days too
when nothing needed to be said
when the game was simply
to watch the petals fall
.
Just so you know...
all images and text © Michael Tweed