rattle

rattle frames – art museum condenses me into hue – into paint and form / radiance and reflection // little boy rattles the air with laughter, grandfather sits with wise blue eyes, smiling softly, curling hands, 2 flannel shirts stacked on top of one another – warm bones. mama takes our legs through unbuilt houses – heaps of wood and thin board, rattling together like skeletons – november wind whipping through strange windows of rolling plastic sheets: my childhood comes back in an instant – all the half-finished crater houses spelunk-ed in our rapshackle, ticky-tacky development – the only tradition my family had. the only pastime. we’d hobble along the cul-de-sac and curbed, mowed fences to a shamble of bones lying wasted in the winter air – a house being constructed — unstable, something that would rattle in the wind


and here december turns ash of our flame / i was walking up a creaky set of stairs and i fell back in love instantly / and my hands ring around the rosie, and my pockets are full of gaseous and nosey words, and my heart is full of window panes and light-rivers / my school chatters and sings, bulges at the walls and sews together little bits of things lost and remembered / my heart pounds and dashes, dots, dots, dots along the path


and the smell of burning rocks – rocks with fire twisted up inside them / water steaming life from life / words pounded into drums, drums pounded into hearts, bodies swollen with honesty, feet trenched in mud and vulnerability / and the full moon glazing, and the full fire blazing, and the hollow of a hut holding sixteen people tight – and the mountain of song spilling out, and the cheer of bones against muscle, and the sweat – the sweat – the sweat dripping off every curve, every hollow / and the spill of water into pit, into steam, into conscious breath, into no breath possible, into breath into a sweater and stay low to the ground, stick your finger out of the tiny hole in the hut, gulp the winter air onto your skin and the heat – the heat – the heat / and the release – the gash of air tunneling your body, finally, finally – heart melting / exposed, ravenous / blanketed on leaves, naked skin against winter dirtearth – leaf bed, full moon canopy of black-branched labyrinth streaming towards the sky – streaming towards the sky – steaming towards surrender – and the surrender, the surrender, the surrender – the will power, the achievement, the strength – the release of ego – the release – the sweat, the swell, the season, the surrender, the sublime, the sacred, the sanctuary, the summit; the sound of everything

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