Self-ish

surf culture
on my life
--a woman's t-shirt


I've said
the surface of self stares us
into surrender. We see it in all
we fail to forget,
and in that
leash the languid beast
that breathes us inside being.

We do not bay or howl or grunt
but when we do we call it
singing: to create, to express,
to shape the freedom we contain.

Constrained,
we play as many stops
as we have fingers. A human song
to/too long for what's
beyond the world
all
that is untouchable
inside the surface of our lies.


jerry gordon
5.21.6