Tendons Holding Steady

public domain image

Provocation, always a dicey proposition,
sometimes best laid despite its wake
Torn pages, thou which dost protest,
lay in remains 
filling in the time lost

Along tides sweeping incoherently,
they don't drown 
as much as they encompass the uncertainty 
of a given moment's meaning –
places and names transplanted

The skin on your feet lurching forward,
tendons holding steady,
eyes wincing 
uncertain glances

Lifting the veil, materializing
forward into the grazing downhill slope,
illuminating its view 
in distant vantage

The circuitry of this moment, 
unveiled
buildings of a city distant,
carve a blight against horizons

Rock formation, 
endless forest, 
foothills cast in blue vivid skies,
slightly tainted by a haze 
of emission, sharply sped –
passing by, 

in detriment of motion, 
in monument of observation
Chaos roundly rumbling in silence 
from a distance

Making clear the scope 
of what is here, charting 
position of its calling

Shaping spinning clay, unrealized 
in the dignity of what it holds
Its shape, the way it feels 
on wistful hands
The melding of earth, of color, 
and aesthetic

Moments in its making, fleeting 
faith in the bounty 
of its creation, spinning 
out of control in resignation
of unworthiness of the craftsman 
It might slip away 
in dark and damp surroundings

But it moves, 
time's effortless motion
Waters circulate quietly, pulsing
around stones and limbs,
pushed from upstream

Materials, collection, moving life
headlong in quiet disarray, 
chaotic order

Downshifting tension's disturbance
into radiance of color,
warmth of ambient light,
slipping through reminders 
like clockwork

Matt Mauldin
1/2018
Santa Barbara, CA