these formulas were conceived

these formulas were conceived
to bend and paint
and distract the eyes from latching on
to the truth of nature and it's
repetitions

each turn and each curve designed
to pull harder
lift higher
and bait with the potential of something
unexpected

but disappointment insists
on being stronger than something
when it handles so smoothly
within the grooves of my hands

and disappointment demands
to be blind towards that something
i refuse to hold back
with more optimistic greetings
unsupported by logic

but with the these and the this and that (and all the rest) there is still only one thing i now know

and that is that
some of these somethings are worthy of wanting
and sometimes impossible to let go
but repetition continues to persuade
that i must let go
and i must let go
now i have to let go

but something in this logic finds
another small piece which
feels nothing for such incessant formulas
and knows only the sensation
of holding on