jasonaeiou
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poetry

by Jason Morales

of this of that
inner rings
​peculiar and rarely
cella
anguilla anguilla​


throws & parallels
​​​gardenpomes

one sees

8/26/2014

 
It may be impossible to ever know
how and when he
first fascinated this
personal spiritual gravity toward
​the sublime concept of - wet foam folds -

the open sea.

Some chord struck (strummed, plucked) in him,
this is clear. Even as urgings -
engulfed by pavings and cravings and 
crevices and paintings and functions
sanctioned in sections thru dissections
of spectacled curiosity shoppers bewondered -
amassed so much stuff

one sees

not a pattern, purse, or A chromosome as much
some simple space
timed by wave (come to life)
first disembodied, so then he goes
to feel it. He went there
with her, hell he needed her
to go, to be, to sense
it it was impossible 
without her.

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