A Loose Dissertation on Movement, with Souls of Mischief as Soundtrack
BY ALAN CHAZARO
I’m carrying distant shores
on my fingertips though I don’t
know what mileage I’ve left
behind me.
I’m telling you: I’ve inherited
this loss of sunlight, the frozen
curvature of floating
eyes. I promise you: this lyric
is covered in the shape
of a Mexican serape
in winter, the birth
of a candlelight’s truth.
Hygge means you don’t know
what’s beneath the open
courtyards until you’ve come up
for more air—but I won’t
call for breath
until I’ve lived
beyond myself. Pour me
a double round
of wet afternoons and basketball
hoops near subway stations.
Watch the snow
dribble into streaks
across your double-laced hoodie.
This is where I want to fold
into nothing I can pronounce.
This is how I want to chill
inside myself. This is why I take
free throws as if it matters.
This is where I’ll stand
from now til’ infinity.
