Thursday, March 3, 2011


Directrix unspoken
The focus less than clear
I shake the liquid from my ears
Regaining balance
Condemning arcs and curves

As children we are tagged
Like hunters do their prey
A mother clips a portion down,
Implanting sentiment
Sorting through the mind

So to this I ask,
If the sentiment is not ours to give,
How can we accept failure as our own?
Why are we responsible
When the construction never was our won?

Symmetry enchants me
Every time I think of you
The angles of your gradient
The wisdom in your frame
The obtuse relationship
The acuteness of attraction
Between us,  an equation I can’t fix

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