Existing (pocketed)

Somewhere in between mouthfuls I look up.

I look up and catch your eyes across the table.
Mid-air, hovering wet.

Break. Break.

With a breath I pluck them both, scoop them up from somewhere above the water pitcher, and put them in my pocket safe.
Blinking, we continue.

Punch lines delivered
backs of hands kissed
stories shared, ripe and full
skins shining red
This songs melody dogged and swerving yet lurching on.
Both a window and a door.

You push back your hair unwashed and pour another cup of button coffee.

Lining up ideas between short planks of lavender,
blood orange bergamot
displaced sand and seaweed drying
crystals and eggs and a woman sitting alone in her wardrobe.

This box will be empty soon if I don’t slow down the pace
why is this thread so scattered?

Between tall blades we collapse in heavy angles, our heads planted on soil
shrouded in pink and dusk, green laughter.
The sharp snap of stalks broken under her weight, and the uproar of our delight exploded riotous.

About the Sun,
that building with the thunderous red glow
the manifestations of five.
Our feet long and shadow-less, stepping out into impossible early morning, out into the fields.

Did you see where the sun set?
I think it was somewhere over here, the dark looks somehow less menacing.
Shall we trust it?
Your intuition.

I guess it’s as good a direction as any.

– Spreading Fire

Related Blogposts

sitting down to dinner we removed our skin and dared to look into the silence passed the illusion of flesh. a shining spirit clings to a skeleton their teeth chattering afraid of the dark / afraid of the light there is a distant piano chord and the teeth, ivory keys…

lump in my throat, shallow breath, racing heart after pulling down the net from my ceiling…collecting material from outside my door, where those who visited reflected. the net had become so tangled with time, it did not want to come down…leave the nest……foggy mind, sensitive skin, heightened hearing. desire to…