I loved reading this, it left me breathless.
Remember when I said, I want us to be close, become better friends, make a mutual vow to love who we are and who we can be for each other – for another not unlike ourselves. And in some inscrutable sentiment we can hold what we have in our hands and at the same time give it away, back to ourselves, and not another. Let it become pre-literate, possibility only, promise not deed a soft power a filter of recognition. I want to witness the cool earth body laid down over its own aggressive ardor, or grass. Let it shine and be seen from a coiled space outside the bones between meals unending even in death, a psalm for the forest the forest on fire. I strike the stick to soothe the skin, refill the aquifer with honey, make sense of turgid matter. How free we can be, how blithe to trust the earth and poetry to deliver us to our inner eye to behold the curtain parting the drone of sorrow the sorrow that ignites on contact and becomes the mirror the abyss. What it comes down to is the life we lead in private, through sieves translated by memory lugging the bounty with our backs for the one sweet awakening attributable to the season, perhaps, the silkworm or the snake. I was able to see in you me in you, my famished smile a swan dive into another night where I become the night. |
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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
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