Deepening the hole your head shakes around in like a finger in the sand
I’ve tinkered with the way I see my face
Inked my mind with scribbled squares
Slowly forming into moons
We tinker with the toys we’ve got
Back and forth we pass a feather with our words
Like a busted down is sitting somewhere near
I’ve watched too many times two sets
Crawl around a checkered floor playing
A game of chess on an empty crowded board
Somewhere there is contentment ringing
There’s an empty bed not too far off
An after thought of worn thinking
Maybe there is something that calmly collects
Like a pooling of foam in a blotch of sea, the feelings
and things that I miss. Digressing from abandon and ending the moments that follow.
Who can deny that the precedent is not presence, but an act of reaching for forward, motion or reaching across the city to others escaping presence and denying ourselves presence
We trip away to feel right.
We trip in forests to feel as if we aren’t failing but being failed. Watching trees shake in dead silence and discovering the beauty of
Earthworms churning the soil.
I find myself unable to sit still it aches to be presence.
The collected foam sits on the couches and benches around us. We’re breaking in whispers of green and yellow expressions, choking on captured states of bubbled air.
This pooling of collected abandon and distance, sits all around us in near frozen combat. Sometimes all these moments feel like dress rehearsals for the real thing, practicing presence and patience. The quick nostalgic passage. We role play and adapt like an incubated lizard. Taking the heat from above us
During a formation of thought drawing quick to the end. Watching the space flick past as black. Pearls are so distant so shrinking and beauty engulfs them. They happen sometimes.
Porches are playing and people are out feeling good and alarmed by their confidence
Hours are feelings and passage in presence.
Rory Elliott lives on the corner of a crossroads in Portland, OR, where they write, read, water their plants, play music, write songs, use the bathroom, drink tea, shower and eat. They attend PCC, where they are hoping to develop the skills and credits to major in plant biology. As a poet they have had work published in The Bridge, as a musician their band was in the most recent ABC Portland compilation. They are slowly bringing out into the open their other projects. They aspire to be more like Mary Poppins each passing day.