Tuesday, June 8, 2010

In the Margins of Moments

in the margin of moments

It is our capacity to weep which sustains our taste for things,
which makes them exist at all: it keeps us from exhausting their savor
and from turning away. – E. M. Cioran

We, breathing like a slow garden
the size of centuries; the borders
a dishevelled tragedy tippled
to a wet stagger. We, calling

to the birds to carry our seeds our
vicarious freedoms challenging
the misery of consumption; the all-
consuming need for assertion. We are

arrangers of the eristic mess drunk and
chasing the vitality of art. The colossal

crystallising of moments driving
commonality; our taste of things
and the turning of our heads
to the space where we are human where
the extent of things may have no meaning
but can be something; can be

there for a while in the midst of ardent construction
fading upon fading as we go, as the fingers whimper
beneath the dissolution of our skin and
the incorrigibility of our demise. Weep,

weep: we will wash the light for seeing. There is nothing
to take away, yet the possibility of something left.

Currently living in Argyll, Scotland with her partner, two children and a cat, Gillian Prew ditched philosophy in favour of poetry even though the former still haunts her. She has three collections of poems and has been published at Full of Crow, Counterexample Poetics, Gutter Eloquence, Gloom Cupboard, Fragile Arts Quarterly, 'ditch', and The Glasgow Review among others. She also recently became a 'Featured Artist' at Counterexample Poetics. 

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