Nikolaus Euwer
Unkindness, these
cruel
prison bars
of thought;
what am I
and
what
are you?
And
what if
one of us
breaks free
from
category?
What wrath,
what stubborn
disappointment
will follow?
What am I
and
what
are you?
I run my hands
along these
walls;
cool wet stone,
earthen
tomb
of being.
So defined
and,
yet,
so lost.
My question
searches for rest
from its
stretching,
tendrils and roots
retreating.
What cruelty
bleeds
from frameworks
of language
and of
logic?
What heavy-
handed
expectation
waits for you
in prisons constructed
from light
and the
breath of language?
Words whisper
into the impatience
of my
searching heart; a
prisoner and
a warden
I might be,
yet.
What is this
breathing shadow,
what is this spinning
vine
of thought?
Why must I keep you in
mind, keep you in
language?
Why must I ensnare your
life
to rationalize my
own?
***
Nikolaus Euwer is an avid gardener and enjoys writing poetry when he finds inspiration. He also makes music, which can be heard at: https://soundcloud.com/grownativeplants.