andrew maxwell
meditations (i)
i. de profundis If only this gaping word only. Without which
dusk never ungathers dusk
never. As yet. As yet only this gaping
word only. Without which
you never yet
speak yet will almost
approach you. Will almost
become you.
As smoke of smoke only. As this word
this word which ungathers this
body ungathers this
silence you never
yet speak.
ii. that which is given Like eventide wounded. If merely to give you. New wounded
lips merely. If merely
to cry no more
nakedly
no more for
why and thereafter for
that which is
open. Cuts open your lips now. Beginning
without. Now beginning without
now.
Thereafter. That
emptying. Silence. That flaying
of pages how softly. That
shade which already will
flower within.
stigmata
Wherein wet lavender. After your fingers will
almost your fingers will almost
ungather.
Impassioned here coming here. Into this.
Unbegun all of this
lavender after.
*
If into forgiveness. If into this only. You follow. This only. You swallow.
*
As no one already comes no one already comes.
Into unsaying. As nakedly no one embraces
unsaying. This infinite
distance in which you will almost
ungather. This
all of this. Lavender after.
blessing
Begotten of bleeding. Abyssal lips nakedly. Filled with such
distance in which. If such distance will
open your sighs will
begin to cut
open. That ironlike only.
*
If only. To speak is to only speak. Nothing more.
Nothing now other than. Nothing in which. Nothing
other than that which already is
waiting is nakedly
waiting. To speak.
Andrew Maxwell is from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared or are forthcoming in Conjunctions, Colorado Review, Lana Turner, Grotto, and antiphony, among other places.