Pneumatic Equipoise

What comes of us?

Can we ever parse the sentence

that we wrote together

ending in no period?

Blood drips down now,

but only metaphorically.

I cannot produce

or reproduce the past

by separating the noun of you

from the verb of you.

There is no way to understand



One must find a way

to accept the not knowing

or else

life is pure misery

unconjugated pain

with no images

to grope with the eyes

or the ears

sounds and sights

don't match up

fragments are the closest thing

to reality


but who dares to say

what is reality

appropriateness and balance

must suffice

pneumatic equipoise

my personal goal