An Immersed Artist
Without a Spine
grace gutekanst
Tethered to time
a rapid routine
heart pumping
through wrists
slicing my sole
to save my sole
I'm floating in pools of crystalized liquid
(while they float
still;
cold powder blue
inanimate)
glazing my face
a blurred atmosphere
behind prussian blue undertones
of eyelids
peaceful puddles of me
detached head to the heavens
ripples impel my severed neck
hair pushing
pulling with subtle delight
of the distant trails of others
charging into polluted territories
blind
remote past
suppress the future
anchor phalanges
to the bottom of the sea
hooked and sewn
to sing
without voices
in harmony with the choral
then pour my face into a jar
drown it in paint
before hesitance dances
and darkness clouds us all
this prolonged war.
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