The Closeness

The Closeness

Where have I been feeling so close and undertone brilliant red and saturate
when does the brother become the son become the wind become the end
a tan line in brine; a sign of the end of my wind.

Shaken closely, rubbing, breaking apart like small ones.
Coming lose, wallowing, billowing, crumbling downward down the pipe
Do we make it, or do we see black?

Tender eyes can’t stand the truth, tender ears can’t bear the noise. We cry lightly
but we come through.
we seek what really exists right before us
so close we can taste it.