fuzzy starlight

rough-bellied open wound, sore casket ;; when the Band-Aid comes off the blood better be ready to rush / your head in my hands, a scraggle faced prayer , something I have grown into , a rush I never knew would mean this much to me ; a head I never imagined would fit my hand so elegantly / no one knows where the end of the thread is / and when it hurts it hurts like hell

well that’s the thing about people ;; there’s never gonna be another you / there’s never gonna be anyone who holds their back up exactly the way that you do ,  anyone who makes me laugh just the way that you do , and you can’t write the list down , of the qualities and conditions , you can’t quantify it // you can hardly hold it in your fingers for long enough before it flashes off again / you made me feel like a thousand dizzy dreams / you looked at me like you could see the stardust inside of me / I can only hope to make someone feel as magical as you make me feel

and still somehow again the ocean feels so wide; so deep to swim and still somehow again I wish I could place the fuzzy starlight back into your eyes ;; I wish i could plunge the fairy dust into your throat again ; pearl the silent memories through your hair / I wish autumn would come with no change ;; the evergreen forest of this brief love, always green, always green // I wish Time would let me hold it in my hand ; and let me hold it as long as I need to , before the sun calls me again down that road , that dusty time clock peeling away in every direction ;; I wish my life did not look through ten thousand windows of possibilities , always framed , lacey curtains billowing in some almost life ; I wish my life was a solid path I could not walk off of ;; a thousand maybes falling off the branches of the trees ; i wish i could stand the thought of not being inside of in a thousand golden shimmering leaves twirling around me ;; I don’t want to get old / I don’t want to lose magic / I want to keep spinning out like a star full of baubles and bursts; steady in the clear stream of sapped air trapped staring // i wish i could live in between the light and what it hits; it between the light and what it makes perceivable;; in between the light and what percieves it – inside of the fuzzy starlight between us

now that the shadows have shifted

thick saturation ; This October world ; this golden sun dream beaming ; This orange rust brush, russet indigo golden stream of sapped honey – thick light This forest – paled in air just thick enough to feel – a mingled spoon twirled cup of cold and warm touching each other through a screen door ; this temperature of air – each fully formed particle both heaving away and clamming together all at the same time // walking through this air a wall of mixed temperatures caressing one another / an orgy of lost weathers knitting sweaters for the new day \ and here the red perched next to the yellow perched next to the green / The half-assed rainbow of the season waving its tinny flag // and the grass; the long grass, each spoked wheel of a spoken word speaking back — the way they catch the golden hour in their trilling hairs — the way they weave baskets of golden light on the ground — their own woven delicacies  ,, the heat has no sticking power;; flutters but cannot land ;; touches but does not settle , The way the slightest shadow of a tree cuts through the warmth firmly / as if this light were butter half melted // the way that summer fills completely every arched and laden walkway; this light is a character, touches only where it is seen, flees where it is hidden, stretches its webbed fingers only as far as they can reach, before it peels away, busy on its next adventure to infect some masterpiece ;; to trace a honey outline on some spiderweb ; to glaze the sublime on the side of a wall, and to follow you back along the path, now that the shadows have shifted

brief meditation on the life of maggie pollitt

this rose quartz chinadoll; this sunken chunk of flesh and sex; this four-poster bed draped in southern wind, the little traces of sunlight blinking through the lilywhite + cream curtains – the peak, the sneak, the garter belt, the rotation of heels and earrings ; the pearls; the diamonds cascading through fingertips still silken at the skin ,, still soaked in sin, still flashing tumbler whiskey dry , high time , high noon , Memphis heat boiling over the ice cube coldness – bitter fringe of society; the society we live in; the rolled up pant leg to expose / to expose; the exposition of timelessness;  of ankles broken, twisted, mangled words hulked on top of one another like a hawk-cries’ promise \\ It’s just a mechanical thing, this love ; or the magical disappearing act of it \ it’s just a mechanical thing, this heart or the wild feet I race back and forth in circles / This blue satin love, a sash around the waist, a dash of haste stealing around your chaste angled brow upwards,, the disdain, the rotating glass chiming clock chimes in the hallway, endless hours of saturated sun ; croquet balls flung mid moon air suspended ; never hitting the target through the delicate wire frame the ball is supposed to chime through ; the delicate wire frame ; the endless succession of words, the postponement of pleasure, of honesty, the bravery of standing on your own two feet, and barking into the moonlight

beautiful virus

The light turns buttery ; fringes through the branches ; curls light green at the edges ; the forest is sending postcards // today the stream is laughing awe-filled laughs;; each drop a silent memory released ;; the drip-drop humble hands, the tips of branches gone dry into the restless pool of water beneath it;; begs for something shallow , cool , irreverent ;; something to bathe itself in ; the coolness everywhere peels back the saturation , the vibrance , the funnel of summer colors that reach towards the endless blue ,, everything pulls away; pulls back in on itself; chlorophyll like a half remembered promise — passing through for today ; a cheat day today; the cheap linen cues cascading around the bushels of greenery like a half-assed acceptance / here and there the color windows / just here and there it seems it pulls back from the world / like a frozen lullaby , like a soft beautiful virus , metastasizing slowly , effortlessly [ with great ease ] no makeup, no care for presentation, just a bunch of old roots sending messages up the tree willy nilly – an optional RSVP at this point in the season,, a forged signature, a foraged bundle of new paints, a slow attempt at learning a new skill // fall never comes in the cascades of color pops that adorn some windows 97 screensaver;; it comes in oceanic waves, subtley, inconsistently – never quite fully satisfied or in cohesion across the forest, each little drummer beating its own autumn tune at its own pace — the natural drumbeat of release,, always somehow in tune with itself,, unplayable by me, far too many harmonies, this perfectly strung chord, impossible to replicate, just above sonically recognizable, but breaktaking to hear


radioactive love, this mountain of moving music // the miles from my eyes to yours ;; the stretched distance which becomes thin upon listening / the curvature of sound which never makes it from my lips to yours / the desperation of angled skin cells ; hunting for one another ; like a desolate skeleton of love once-discarded ; always buried ; never burned ; ashen in cruelty ; and firmly, fearlessly;; still alive