THE GOSPEL OF IMPERFECTION

A poem by Noah Falck

//

[1.]

the sky //
a violent //
fracture //
of light //
a water prayer //
apology //
shadowing //
the mountains //
the mind //
a field //
stranded //
unto itself //
a Sabbath //
of someone //
screaming //
the day after //
you were no //
longer there //

[2.]

look at the earth //
and feel //
the abandoning //
rise from it, //
a shivering //
of strange spirits, //
the color of silence //
on a horizon //
sleeping in the coolness //

later, after the rain //
let your face play the part //
of history we say yes to //
everyone breathless //
and fraying into the ah //

[3.]

this is a song about //
anything happening, //
a gospel of imperfection //

say fluorescence //
and watch the sky casserole //
like an asthma attack //

the place between now //
and then is everywhere //
erupting as moments //
of awe so often do //

[4.]

voices become forests //
you walk through //
marbled with ice //

your eyes say //
the landscape //
is a riot collaged //
from memory //

and the darkness a scar //
you wear proudly //
on your face //
after nothing’s left //

[5.]

the seasons together //
years becoming //
years flexing //
a listened to //
stillness //

inside the heart //
the soundtrack //
of night //

stars bishop //
then smear //

a beating //
of shadows //
running into //
each other //
and then away //

[6.]
a choreography //
of all the skies falling //
the dialogue //
of every wind //
losing it //
on a day //
when only //
dusk happens //
[7.]

open up the end //
and find the past //
running out //

spilling like //
memorized music //

in the distance //
a winged thing //
caught in a century’s //
worth of light //

a sea receding //
into oblivion //
the mind goes //

the fragmented //
mist of history //
is animal too //

[8.]
even light is an act of faith //
even water //

a voice passing //
through consciousness //
it’s a vehicle //
for being present //

a ghost inside a ghost //
exchanging echoes //

the most recent thoughts //
of a god //
[9.]

listen to your body //
when it recognizes //
it is possessed by light //

listen as your head //
dreams back to the days //
of never again //
listen as your voice //
leaves a music //
to map the land //

and you rise out //
understanding the night sky //
only knows how to swallow //

[10.]

of life //
a music of vacancy //
part proverb, //
part past life //
have you the eyes //
of a prayer, //
eyes in which //
everything changes //
in which the muttering //
of those who never sleep //
remake the morning //
a nocturne //
a terrain //
where the day’s dust //
is settling //
[11.]

lack of background //
at the edge of town //
a fog felt //
as a demo //
in a club //
of churchgoers //
shaking their most //
human qualities //
say adventure, //
say dust //
say we need //
to think this over //
as to not let death //
be the only //
way out //

[12.]

the way //
the heart’s //
groomed cumulus //
in a world so young //
it could be a room //
opaqued with silence //
a voice trapped //
in a future ruin //
half shadows of sound //
half field rippled //
by bone-light //
it is written //

[13.]

night becomes //
whatever spills out //
whatever’s left //
of the wild //
and repeats //
like a blush of bats //
tangled above the river //
night names the oceans //
the oceans a whisper //
watercolor of no age //

say a thousand //
sudden stars //
keep the sky from falling //
say they don’t //

[14.]

place the holy spirit //
inside someone you love //
let your imagination //
evolve into a worship //
factory of nature //
of flowers //
blooming delicately //
through the seasons //
let there be no name //
for the gods, rather //
a distance beyond //
all the wars //
or else the sudden tomorrow //
when nobody’s home //