oh, where you are

oh, where you are

still, my excised anima, chronic
nostalgia in flute-song,
not knowing where you've been,

insipid within, missing part of a soul
as if venter and atria have long gone
sterile—

dross-dammed heart-spring, made wadi-dry
by a life's pursuit of root & moirae;

you — my core, heartache
my love

here & now —
this diminishing umbra;

refrain fades out, harmonics begin,
mora bounds

familiar.


[This version is primarily thanks to my super talented friend, Shell, whose own work you can read and enjoy here ... do stop by over there and introduce yourself ... Shell, my heartfelt thanks to you, for this edition, it's far superior than the other ... you are indeed a fine poet (but this is not news to me) ... I'm fortunate to have you as friend ... Now, get back to work and write! ... ha:].