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Flux is the Only Permanency: Site Sit

The Unknown's picture

Blanketing obscurity

scrutinizing my insecurities.

Everything smells moist.

Why are our roots, ourstory not voiced?

Pine and cinnamon circling my nose

my confusions and discomfort I cannot fully disclose.

Reforming in the embedding, moist leaves,

the branching flux interweaves.

Sheltered by interlocking lacework

protection, maneuvering the perpetual networks.

Green bulbs on sprouting trees

accountability and purpose kindle my unease.

Disconcerted in the known

our responsibility, the interconnections, I must postpone.

Struggling, craving to feel

unconscious searching I conceal.

Crossing, fluctuating inhibitions

invasive limbs changing conditions.

Titles becloud the spectacle

trusting limits, our roots intentional.

The essence of displacement

in our severed relationships, I am complacent.

What I can not see, failing to perceive what I lay open

Receptive and vulnerable I desire to be in motion.

Digging into the raw nakedness I am uninsured

Seeking to penetrate the negative, minus, invade the obscured.


How can we conceptualize what we are convinced we do not know? Why have I never left this bench? So comfortable and grateful for validation. How do we build trust and connections with what we know has limits, end points, finalities?