02.11

0211

(the unexplainable.)

there is that which words cannot hold onto
the spaces between these letters
the black part of your pupils
that feeling of vast emptiness when you stand amongst epic nature
rocks like gods and rivers like veins that run through the earth
the feeling you must get staring at our world from outer space
the static charge when lovers lips meet
that danceable feeling of revelation when you meet a new friend on the off chance that some unexplainable force led you to the same room at the same time
that moments when you look in the mirror and see yourself and think what the hell kind of thing is this that i’m a part of
the way you wish you could see yourself with your eyes closed
Love, but not just Love Love
the Love that exists undeniably between everything capable of Love and the Love that sneaks up on you when you’re feeling underoverwhelmed and overunderwhelmed
watching a bird fly beside you down a highway where you both look like you are standing still but in fact you both are charging recklessly into the dawn at unimaginable speeds
that idea that creeps into your skull that you can’t take credit for but that you don’t quite know how you could have gone on each day being you if this great muse didn’t crack open your skull and let in this homeless insect
thunder
lightning
undocumented phenomenon
ghosts of moments that can’t be captured
the stars you see after closing your eyes tightly then opening them wide and back into reality
the way you can fall in love with an abstract painting
the way you can fall in love with a character in some two dimensional story
or a stranger just by watching them dance
the indescribable
the undeniable, existential, completely existent non-existent smoke clouds rising into the sky and out into neverland floating above us below us within us
most of all, within us
the unexplainable
that which truly is
God

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ 02.12, DAY 12 OF THE 02.2013 PROJECT

02.2013 is a twenty-eight day project chronicling my february of 2013 through poetry. to read the entries from the beginning CLICK HERE

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

10 thoughts on “02.11”

      1. Under the pond and to the left, Australia
        Hence my drinking of wine a few days back while you got ready for work in the am.
        Not just an alcoholic.

      2. Hot. 40 degrees which I think is like 140 to you guys.

        Other than that, midday and Im still drinking tea despite the heat.

        Isn’t it midnight and winter where you are? I cant help but do my best writing in the cold and at night, its a bitch for morning wakeups.

      3. It is 9:30 and yeah, it’s winter. I’m in Denver, Colorado, USA. There was frost on my car this morning but not really any snow. Are people pretty laid back there? I always got the vibe that Australia just kind of does their own thing.

      4. Yep, we dont take ourselves too seriously and just mind our own business. ‘You do your thing Ill do mine just don’t screw stuff up for all of us.’
        We are rather strange here but easy going.
        I was actually born in New Zealand but raised in Australia, so Im kind of both.

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