ThoughtSong Intersections

when thinkers feel

capacity

t’was me who posed
the question
with no capacity
for
the answer
 
that came on unshod feet
 
miracle unaquired; the gates
were sturdy
t’was my idea

Held

the hand of power
crushed not this trembling
frailty
known intimately from the
position of low
 
HELD
not crushed
covered
not choking
on reckless words of refusal
to bow
 
not to bow from
low
 
Dignity’s
indignity
confused
Major
Minor
the not to bow from low canon
implodes
Hand-harbored
 
Touch; the
Crush
on
clemency
Power
in vulnerability casts
suspicion whereby
defective impressions
progress:::pretention propagates low
persistently
HELD
 
held off held on held out in
hope of love logic
illogical; maneuver
on ever nerve-centered
     tender drenched potence
sense
 
infinite requirements:
this know
foreclose
 
the
touch, the
bow; the
clasp; the
hand of power
finally
grasped