Incompleteness Rises

Incompleteness rises



It’s what we don’t know, crowding in on us,
That heals by not making sense:
The books we haven’t read, the tense hiatus
In a film’s dialogue; our own silence

That works better for us than a slick bonmot.
Incompleteness rises as if by deception –
The hero meets a girl he doesn’t know
And follows her to make a strange confession.

They fight on a beach; stones rain from nowhere,
Falling in sand create a random pattern;
And the soundtrack is a jazz trumpeter

Sweats on a solo, prevaricates the turn,
So that we don’t know which way, or where
The climax comes – each moment crazier.


+++