Maybe , in the end , I will have a feeling of pale and empty sorrow.
And those night time letters will amount to no more than a bundle of fevered nightmares you chose to abolish.
Maybe , things will trail away and I shall stare and stare and stare until there really is just an empty space.
Where I wanted you to be , showing me that star .
Just maybe.
Perhaps, you will be a fleeting aura .
Perhaps , despite and because of everything , you will always be that stranger.
A shadow beyond my vision, a terrible Halny wind , sweeping past but never finding me .
But still, you lurk in my thoughts and catch me unawares , in an off balanced melancholy.
Until I become nothing more than a star gazing curio .
A night butterfly, conjuring up stories and fabricating lives for all of you.
awol
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- – -
he was gone for what seemed like forever and she imagined him with lungs dried coughing black taste despair in dustbowl panoramas
Or a loved up tripped out castanadian Nagual in some zone 51 fantasy
A moth with fur and bulge and warmth drawn to that elusive stolen light who saw the same imbrue and serenitatis eyes but time and miles away from her
Her heart shifted up as she wanted him back
his moth orbit drawn enchanted in her diaphanous flame
.
How I wish I could place you here , in this moment.
Right now , with no run up , no preamble to how we got here , how this came to be , but right here , inside these seconds . As they are , now.
Because this is a story of sand and stars. It seems to me to be ancient and just beginning.
It’s a beautiful place to be . The embers of the fire are enough to keep us warm and the sand moulds to the shapes of our spines as we lay . Curl your toes into it. Look up. The sky is huge . Roll your head slowly, from left to right, up and down, take it all in. The stars , there are so many. Look, and then sink beyond , into layer upon layers .*
And the millions of grains of sand beneath us are loose change to the millions of stars above us. In a rush of blood and intake of wondered breath , this whole moment seems so very simple and yet so complex . With fine sand to lay in and specks of dust to shoot through the sky ; earth-fire to warm us by this ocean and fierce suns far out there holding burning secrets .
And these seconds which seem timeless fall inside themselves as time collapses. Until there really is , just , sand beneath us and stars above us . And I stay quiet , because if I begin to talk, my questions would be endless . And I stay still, because to move, would be to lose this moment.
.
* ( don’t laugh , but as a child I called that peeling blackness of dark and silver-bright-light-shine, the cosmic onion , and on dark night car journeys I imagined our world as a shiny marble , finger spun in a giants pocket)
Last night I watched the moon in fullness .
In perfect clarity .
Those mountains and valleys of grey white dusty softness caught in a flash to catch my breath. I knew you’d be watching too . In another moment all those miles away . I like to know that. In my foolish mind it’s a silver thread between us. I imagined you in big expanses of sand and xeric air and nights that fall to coldness. With fires that burn on flat and windy land as brittle sparks rise into the air , mixed in the hum of other people. With sights to fill your mind . With stars to wonder your heart. I want you safe and whole. The distance makes no difference, but I’m missing waking up to your words.
Is it all a glass bead game, or something written in blood , fixed in one of your twisted strands ?
Look to the beginning , you asked for a toe and bit by bit I gave you pieces of something like me . Our questions are simple or lunatic and so I saw shadows in your grey eyes and gave you my red gold hair as we swapped hummingbirds and spaceships , stars for black winged birds .
Veracious thoughts, I don’t know whether they will pan out in specks of gold or grains of sand.
Either way , everything is brighter for it.
Your sliver of moon and the words you send me . On dark nights , on moon nights, on star nights , they help to fix that well and fill that hole . Ultroneous thoughts to ease my mind.
.
Half light , and dull limbs and sleep bruised mouths press together in an ouroboros twine as breath mingles. I’ll breath you all in and you’ll become a whirling dervish in the pit of my stomach. A rakshas, a thing of fiery passion that twists my spine and spins my head. And when I awake from half light and you have disappeared , I won’t be able to tell whether it was true or imagined . So, I’ll carry you around all day inside me, raging and cavorting and then intense stillness , quietly appeased as my thoughts are encompassed by you. And my eyes might see double time and my heart might double beat and my senses might be magnified to more than some people could bear.
Cipher
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Cool grass under spread out tree – - – Fingers trailed in still pools . Face upturned and eyes closed to corona warmth – . – - A halfway step where no one knows my name – - – A blank screen where sickness spills . . -
But if I really need to pour it up and out where do I go . . . .
Into the ether and onto a flickering light page . – No way . . . – That’s how closed I am . That’s how sad I might be – -
Bits of paper scraps – . – - Backs of books . . . . Real pages suit me best . With inky fingers and shiny pencil over coin is where I’m happiest . -
And if I really loved you I’d give you invisible ink and encrypted poems . – .
Words that arrived with candle light -
