Welweteen Anchor
I came to a definition
Of euphoria yesterday
In a momentary lightness
In my back
I knew
I carry all questions
In a cavity in
There
Sometimes
The cavity empties
That levity:
A body’s mass
Is supposed to be weighted
Flesh, bones, organs, the like.
Yet this
Estimated thing I
Have come to know–cavity
Going from dense
Clay to warm
Void in a moment
Gravity is acting
On it not
Known mass
In an instance of
Drinks in an instance
Of sex or
Being perceived as making
Sense or held or
Escaping, bending
Id-ward or helping or knowing
Truth I
Could drift up and fuck
Off from the prison of my
Ponderings, prostrate analogies
I could know
By any sense sensing what occurred
Near my body and not
Not know it
As I so normally don’t
As I’m engaged in
Parlance with a loam
Thick with askings and
Riddles regarding fairness,
Ethics, and imaginings
And I like it yet
The loam is
Connected to my skull and
Nourishes it the same
Way welwet does a buck’s
Antlers,
Causes him to become
Hewn or pointy or instinctive, able
In his maturity or
Wholly stagnant, stale, or irrelevant,
Waste of existence,
Miss the point?