I had the words just a second ago - I'm always doing that, when a feeling storms itself in my insides, feeling so sweet and filling every vein like its whiskey and sweat and every warm memory that reminds you time is nothing….before it flees away finding me unfitting for the Truth just yet.
But it was all ending and it just felt so strange - the great expansiveness about to hit. Sitting in the comfortable routine that no longer belonged to me. It'd be gone tomorrow but my mind was resting too much to remember.
The worried, great rumbling El track- line the last two years had made kept stretching itself like a rubber-band waiting to snap back - waiting for that time when it all feels tangible one last time. When maybe - I've got just the right words to feel the finality.
Feel the meaning of the boxes - holding every fragile possession, of every delicate hope from longs' ago's…
While I've got two strange burns on my neck.
While I've got two strange burns on my neck.
The frenzy already creeping back of my old lamentations - because the same old words now mean poetry again -- and the smoky evening under the stars talking with hands and souls and brokenness have become an urgent craving once again.
The cobblestones, I'd like to trace them after the rain, with fingertips, as bended knees dirties the fabrics of my dress but that won't matter.
No matter any of it. Those old worries. It's beautiful the spontaneity - the full embrace of just one thought - that you hope treacherously people to feel like that. That creates the goings… of all the art I know is still waiting to purge itself and create a devastating smear of beauty.
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