Punctuation

The insatiable seeping of self

is the issue

a word which means both product,

and problem

a variance that smells like

both life and death, or perhaps

salt and iron.

At the very least it is a tension

the incapability of retaining

the sort of thing which ought to be restrained:

words, emotions, vital fluids.

On the other side of tension

is a laxity which begins with sleep

and grows into weakness

to both not move, and not desire to,

a slow-breathing passivity.

At the most, there is pain

both in loss, and in the failure

to prevent loss,

which is a different sort of ache

built on possibility and bruised somewhat

by statement.

The issue is, out loud, unstated

being in itself, a state

and therefore determined by such

boundaries as may be drawn

invisibly

across hills, or plains, or time

demarcating such things as beginnings

centers, and ends.

It begins with a hint of this

coming or building or swelling

and ends with an epilogue

a promise of sequel and series.

It is, internally,

and by necessity also externally,

a test of selfhood, an establishment,

of the empty self by emptying

or the invaded self

by remaining unbreached.

Both a signal and a symptom

of singularity,

and if not, of secondarily

another nature, of another sort

of another self.