this is the recording
this is the rant
this is as “real life
” as a piece of typing paper
This is how it is going to be from here on out.
This is the pulse of the heartbeat,
this this this fragile collection of strikes and spares
letters arranged in haphazard
Casually flung about like a dog’s bone
flung across the park, like a kite
caught in the wind over the Pacific coast down near Santa Cruz
It’s a beacon: home.
This is a ph
not a joke, this is the new paragraph of the mind.
This as to that to become is what was is to will be is to we are is to we might be, might be smiling
, might be fucking
might be holding hands
gently in the breeze.
Who might become stars on a small limited scale, nuclear, molecular atomic furnaces
, consumers, spenders and creators of energy, of thought, speakers of simple truths
and clever fables
The interaction: sublime
, a touch a pressure felt more than slightly, communicates with more then force of will with more than the contextual cursory glance out of the corner of your eye.
And it was the apple of my eye
, the pupil, the dilated sphere where I caught your drift, your unspoken
lack of words, open to spark
never consummated, Pheonixing
anew before burn out.
And every time it stuns,
the capacity to feel to flood senses
with movements of love, sadness movements of hearts fluttering like butterflies
broken on the wind,
frozen inbeteween beats inbeteween breaths inbeteween the now of the MTV washing machine
twirl to the waiting with you.
What thirst I had. What thirst I have.
Will you help me to quench it by allowing me to bury myself in you. Arms, scent, neck, eyes, hair and breasts.
And you what kind of creature are you?
A creature of fire
, from the outside of the senses like me?
Have you heard the whisper of the pale moonlight
in the recesses crevaced in the back of your mind?
Have you heard the siren song of Loreli
, or the muse
, the call of the eagle on the fly
I am so curious, so ready to know to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge
Will you come eat with me and not look up?
Sleeping in me raw bed, alone with you
So when the sun goes down over the river and rises again in our eyes, you remember this day, you don’t forget it.