and so it is
becoming a yearning stroke
a saturated membrane
riding a wave of amber flowing
from bodies overgrown
the endless and rapid existing of
the hollow house
walls
entangled in a fossil
a slumber of dreams
of naked skin and spillage
from our time, our songs
skin piercing through
laughing bodies
all as air
touching stone a mountain a stone
from mountain
moved by
air stone at a time
as it remembers fractions of dawn
of a hunting spider entangled
in a dance upon the softest rug
of a naked I
the body of senses accumulating
a thousand moving frames
which showed all that
which wasn’t shown
and the effervescent drops in the
air misty hearty heart hard soft night
remembers time
of the future
in Air
Air remembers
in air
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And where do you say we start to shake ourselves of our memories and reason? To greet the bewildered road with our soggy and aimless feet. With eyes streaming, now downcast from the round sky, fingering the small hole at the centre of all the thinness. You look something…
a little piece left of white debranded sweets coated with pink sprinkled with seeds savoured maybe I would have picked dark but you choose to gift light bit by bit I lit