Sheila Murphy



Arrested chant rescinds a moment of interior,
"No way on earth" retrieves that instant prior to the loss.

A stack of logs about to be burned open changes
The new fact of future constant that will whiten.

Memory is insufficient to the soul enmeshed in present tense.
Affection brushes the smooth wave as it embraces clatter.

I know your heart by heart, I know each
Of your chastities: consuming silent majesty.

Song happens by accident, song hastens accidental
Imagery: the staves of vowel tones engineered in harmony.




Voice chips in to form a gift for the listener.
This generosity breaks down for being conditional.

Nemesis owns allure, of sorts, by virtue of being difficult
Enough to warrant excess focus; resistance is its own art form.

Depth perception was the one thing that the devotee of duty
Almost learned to live without; apart from independence.

He agrees to speak into the microphone, this gentleman
Attentive to the signals of a gathering crowd.

Lamentation warrants music of the soft, contemplative variety,
To attract collective energy, replenish the profound loss.




A cavity will not be filled with its inverse,
Despite the litany of rendered experience.

Approximate detente purges the detail of what I feel
From what I usually read when I am crafting a new self.

Monitor the falling leaves and you revamp what you impose
Upon the figurative shoulders of great individuals.

Solace resembles silence when I take a page out of the dream
And play it back as I inscribe the latest book to you with love.

Because I said so, recited the woman who swore by
Her devotion to her only son who professed to have invented her.




In the language lab, I learned to speak
The Canterbury Tales in Middle English.

She is resigned to her unhappiness handmade of froth.
A hothouse moistens plant life one might readily admire.

Unison of the brass jazz instruments seems forced,
As though brashness might be disguised by peer pressure.

Speaking from memory, Mass in the vernacular
Softened harsh daylight before finding a path.

Stories need not be mentioned until they have been lived,
Thereby reside in muscle memory for limbs to feel.



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