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unbecoming poem by andrew lovatt on
soul dancer : a.lovatt

by andrew lovatt




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we live in the darkness
of our un-seeing
un-able to distinguish
how we live in the shadow
of our enactments
wired puppets to our
own characters

yet a curiousness
arises in our turmoil
hinting like white sea foam
in the rising & falling
of inner circumstances
is our capacity to see
a matter of perspective?

can the eyes open
& the mouth gulp air
long enough
deep enough
to stop drowning
in this cosmic sea
of impressions?

i live in
a house divided
separate rooms
unknown spaces
lighted windows
darkened blinds
high dusty attic
bellicose basement
curving staircases
wind into the experience
of living in these
unhallowed places

anima ghosts
identities coalescing
and disintegrating
traverse these hallways
resting on islands
of familiar poses
i am this persona
a characterization
demanding enactment
other rooms
are forgotten

you lift me up
from the floor
where I fell
after seeing the light
through the attic window
cast into the bottomless
basement of soul
a need to explore
the drift and grain
of the living darkness
once more
and you smiled
and your arms
were warm

reaching for
the vertical
blinding white goodness
seeing like gods
from a blue sky
radiating compassion

knowing in that instant
of seeing that we will
fall once more
into the earth
of ignorance
wormed with doubt
clothed in
our blackness

this is our natural
a house filled
from top to bottom
with things
undone and forgotten
dark corners
unknown rooms

and the echo
from the basement


from a work in progress
Newbridge : 01.ii.03