absence dissolves slowly
as sensing renders it void
fades to presence
for moments
we are present
in a field
something about trusting the universe and
stars made brighter by the surrounding
black
massive fucking sky
velvet and vacuum
a formal dark
asserting its gravity
upwards towards a common flux
and vivid forgetting
of all else
now is
opposition of colors
evocation of entities
sublimation of lines
assimilation of others
being
watching
as our thoughts tread delicately
out of our mouths
in the western mystery tradition
and the songs between us
resonate with myriad meanings
and
displaced memories
like a string of prayer flags
fraying and fading with the weather
assimilation begins with ASS
here
above the fog line
the steely chirp of insects
sways at irregular intervals
then regular
their orchestrated seeking between beings
growing louder
with intoxication
we’re there too
with them
as them
in extended flesh
pulsing as they pulse
by the moon’s command
i notice the scars on my arm again
and think of shiny, metallic window frames
my gilded age
my transparent hue
dispersed through curtain walls
in woods
that feel safe enough
i smile reflexively
in the stretch between porch light
and doorway
where grass disappears to persistent heat and air
light doesn’t always mean something
you said
darkness isn’t always deep
but silence is measured in space
i said
and time
i close one ear
said space compresses
instantly
tempering the friction
between surface
and bottom
empty and full
here
and not here
then
not then
now
and
not
space drifts from time
I close the other ear
and feel the flatness moving in
as the wind stops -
a cycle of
no net movement
into
or out of
the lungs
gases trapped
and mapping the
dead space
-then reappears as moon shadow
as action for missing actions
there is shit and dust on the floor of this place
you said
i say nothing
sweeping it is the fantasy we share
our ripe harmonics
tested and
building
now
resounding between bodies
me filling in the lower partials
in the hour before dawn
before
I wake in a panic
and sense my whole life lost
again
my hands misshapen
my daughter never born
i inch towards recognition of a texture and a time
in beats
and measures
of a smell
locating me
for now
her downy skin
that again
a new anchor
for this life
hers
a creamy black bourbon
we call brown
enfolded in
mine
an almond or olive
we call white
like a pile of bedding freshly dried and
dropped
as though the only thoughts in the room
that cannot break
beneath the dermis
our blood and anger
the same constituent
tones...
our shared nervous systems
our variegated longings
our hiding places for wayward tumors...
no, she will be different
the world will fear hers differently
her hints and notes
it will fear her
hate her even
and keep me white
my heart aching with the
the knowledge
that hasn’t surfaced yet
that
I will keep me white
and no one will hate me
now my fingers
sticky with insulation foam
edging over our bodies
covered in breastmilk
a subtle yet unsettling roughness
mixing with moisture and
scratching at the fibers
of a silk-like cotton
defining position to
probability
in the air is
lavender
fig
evergreen mist
cactus
and
cum stains
plaster walls
needing paint
the ultimate limit
of a series of shades
of any color
or pure snow
And then it all comes rushing back
self understanding is the basis of understanding other selves
you said
i wanted to say more
but waited
while the heat changed its hold
And then didn't
releasing my hands from behind my back
each line
an unfinished
title
for unfinished work
self understanding isn’t the same as self orientation
or the number of turns in a given coil
unfinished means in-process
i said
like the haptic experience of
scattered clouds
moving through diffuse bodies
and offering no rain
only thin canopies of shade for
free floating
energy
in search of ground
there is something about people who live under the radar
about people who live
under
setting off motion sensors
and
other forms
of entanglement
echoing
in the reading
the channeling
the systems
of growth and renewal and decay
outside of systems
outside of
outside
where she is born
again
and
again
and
again
where i remember her laughter as motion
as 1000 fps
her hair failing to land
her naked teeth
her eyes full of water catching the light
maybe this could last forever
this one verse
this one variation
in the way that the dancer is able to enter
the realm of the super being
the self-forgetful union with the not-self
you read that somewhere and couldn’t wait to share it with me
i wanted to eat you from inside the super being
wiping my mouth with golden threads as you entered
your flesh and fluid separating between my teeth
me a pleasure monster
blending bleeding
blurring
in ecstatic, messy
sensory madness
and then we disappear
inside to outside
an informal darkness
made whole
by tiny points of light