eighty-six days later, we still

eighty-six days later, we still
prefer to keep the vital
signs just out of
, like putting on
Spring, codifying
silences, leaning on
simple mathematics to
make up the difference
between having
and not
having you


  1. Glenn Buttkus

    A complex and challenging poem this, rife with layers and textures and perspectives we did not expect–/prefer to keep the vital/signs just out of/focus/, not letting your vigor, vitality, glow for life dampen or hide the emotional core of your healing, the blossoms protecting the seed–
    /like putting on/Spring/ as if for distraction one could take the warmth, colors, and gestation and weave it into cloth, and wear it; reminding me of the Zen belief that we, when beyond the veil, have bodies comprised of bands and designs of the purest color, each unique and vibrant–
    /codifying silences/ as if the arranging of the spaces between events could keep us focused, provide the alacrity needed not to lapse into pain–/leaning on/simple mathmatics/ but knowing, realizing that despite our heart messages, our heart connection married to loss, the beeps diminish ever so slightly as the number of days marches by.

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