Saturday, October 15, 2011


Always an unword after the last,

Weighted breath of blue heron

At dusk, glancing backwards,

At dying sun gasping in the waves

While the diva sings the real aria

Silently to herself –

Long way home, the journey

Between two mirror hearts,

Somewhere a goodbye is souring

In the tongue of hope,

Quickening in the night’s easel

To hold court to endless implosions

Of denial’s crimes,

When decision arrives

And regrets sooner than final rhetorics,

The soul the untiring outrigger

From moorings undone, again

Wrings out try for just one last

© 2011 Emeniano Acain Somoza, Jr., Co-editor, Spiracle 


Wrexie said...

"The soul the untiring outrigger/From moorings, undone..." ballast, perhaps really the only one we have, on journeys in rough seas where beginnings and endings are never completed; to view with such exquisite accumen the absence of resolution is perfectly captured by invoking souls mirrored, twinned, but never aligned. Ravishingly beautiful writing

Barbara said...

"Again" inhabits a world of pre-beginnings and post-endings, where unwords compete with words for prominence -- where what is real is often silent rather than sung or shouted aloud -- where TRY never got the memo to lay down and die. There will always be one last of him, searching for the way home between two mirror hearts.

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