Provocation: to stop (is an addiction)

a song
is not the words

it is
the voice

the air
that speaks the heart
that cannot
be spoken

raise your voices
then

sing

~

I
am no
philosopher

although
I think . . .

deeply

enough to drown
without my rope
to shallow waters

and you?

where do your thoughts
lead

the rights
and wrongs . . .

the did nots
and dids

the coulds

the might bes

the if onlys

~

I have been studying
eyes

the way
a person looks
through them

sees

can you capture
a person
if you draw
their eyes?

I wonder

~

I steal souls
in small portions

the insects and bugs
of the backyard

captured in my camera

what for?

what do I want –
what
can I do –
with insect souls?

and insect infested
celluloid
or paper
or digital space . . .

I don’t know

it is
a craving

a small
addiction

and I
am an addict
like that

yes

exactly like that

but . . .

I could stop
anytime

I
am in control
of me

all it would need . . .

take my camera

take my phone

ground the insects

find –
for me –
a substitute

I can give it away
any time

just by taking
three steps
out of the twelve

here . . .

let me get
a picture
of that

~

what
is the colour
of emptiness

the shade
of something taken
away

water –
they say –
is colourless
but
it has
a look

and the sunlight
plays
upon its surface . . .

no

emptiness
is
emptier
than that

emptiness has no depth
to it
as well

nothing squared

nothing cubed

perhaps
I should take
another picture

at least –
then –
there will be
a little soul that I can find
when I need it

~

I am an addict
you know

addicted
and obsessed

and I
can give it up
I know

all I need
is to stop

breathing

is to stop

being

is to

stop

~

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