the combust of entry

is there a litany of concerns,

within the lifespan of a care?

when the wingspan isn't put into an effort,

is that like how

lucidity is speechless to respond,

by answering?

there is rush

and then, 

the observance of rush.

which one are we?

there is acknowledgment,

as anything, 

duly noted in passing.

but also,

there is attachment to detachment.

I could have an army of feelings.

but with these wings, 

the breeze, 

my sense of direction,

it all adds up.

if I heard a stampede, 

I could run towards it 

or away from it.

so far I have avoided playing, 

this tag of ambivalence.

concerns themselves 

seem to only come 

out of fresh hatched issues.

and the tinder of issues, 

is easily flammable.

the bakery guy comes by 

with a tray of topics.

asked me to take a role. 

he says, they're free.

well, sure I have options.

I could be a pyre-man or a firemen.

I could be a 9-11

or a media reporter,

as a flock of clichés, 

migrating towards a summary.

do I need a backstory of emotional trauma,

to get my ass in gear and care?

not care, 

from a witness protection program,

but an all out piece of me, 

on the chessboard as a participant.

am I to be here for judgment?

for moral propagandizing?

for balancing the teeter-totter 

of public persuasion?

no, I don't get issues, 

as reasons for answer.

I want to get to the source of the real cause,

as irrational 

as that may be in concealment.

I want where pain lives to come out. 

it's clear, we can't have transparent lives,

in a narrative, projective world.

even as my own presenter,

I am not sure 

if hurl comes from true source.

self-consciousness is so abusive 

in this regard.

I don't have expressions 

that express from deep enough within.

it has to be spontaneous,

yet intended.

so what triggers 

that depth of honest response?

I have to get out of my own way

so that me, 

gets live air time to start.

I know it's back there 

and deeply ordained.

but the litany of concerns 

is a false wardrobe to be wearing,

yet emotions have surface tension 

as interactional.

I want what touches you

to come from beyond 

who I am to you.

I want, 

where we are that harmonic,

to surface by whatever means.

we don't need 

a shared near death experience,

but something beyond narrative.

a connect,

that does not lead to an account.

just our combust of entry

and then an unending silent note

that sings our soul 

as us . . .