a touch of cummings again...wish i could freestyle.
He said I love only myself through him but
it is himself only, truly, I love through me
so that every song I sing is his, every foot
I sink in his name and every scent I smell fills
me incredibly, thoroughly with him. (It's some delicate
dusky musk, a low density chocolate lifting, it's the cleanest sweat, the freshest pine, the darkest growling animal, it's the sweet and the never sour.)
I hear every hour his faraway discordant chord arpeggiate with a trump,and yet! it is always too late, the stars dancing
his jazz slam tune in a different zone; time comes I will
pool them all together with cupped hands into some
excuse of a tiding moon.
Should I take the vow or take a bow?
Why must you be the crack in my voice, the cough in my speech? I ponder the twiddle of my wandering thumbs, the point of my bashful toe. I only know these seasons that come crashing are yours and I can only try to plot us into a chart. Watch it unfurl, spinning creeping tessellations into some beautiful art. Some art is artifice, some art is cut, some is whole glass, reflective. Our art is orgasm a suspension point between fall and shatter. This is about to hurt us, this never can. This is why we cannot stop.
There are only questions now--
you'll know them from the gain in pitch right towards the end-- and you'll see how every reason empty yours pops up; I cannot stop asking: why disappear? no why appear in the first place? no why have we been attempting communication? why the walkie-talkie-fuckie?
Such grim fun our ballet. I've run out of things to say.
I've pinned you to the stage with metal clips, concisely harsh, peering through the coldest lens and then I've discovered something surprising, something not my own invention. Your sorries and my useless rulings have bent in together, blurring. This is the new law:
I've lost focus and I just can't care anymore.
See how we telescope, see how I smile and
give you the ok-sign from shore, o sea captain
my captain. This is all a bit nautical, all a bit
naughty. See I've found a drift on which to cast you,
I'll only take what you give. I'm using these acting lessons
I picked up from thee. (Wheee!)
I said you have ruined the movies and the rain and music
for me; perhaps it is not true. Tonight I trapezed
over a piano and a melody came tumbling out of my
clumsy fingers, complete with accompaniment. This
is something I never could--
And I yearned for it sent into your ears, crawled into your head. (So this was love's clashing trill, this the nightingale's painful reproach, this the inviting silk of disapprobation, a probing fighting grinding riff- this
is how to get lost up so high in the deep low heartache of a harmony- this is light this is camera this is action)
I shall get over it, practice it over and over slapping this rhythm with palm on thigh. I shall peel you off my skin layer by layer at will. I shall clear you, in a luxury like battle, in a slough by slough excoriate. I only know I will not know you, do not know you not at all, never have even at all.
Maybe he is right.
interesting and descriptive.