I spoke of simile and flesh
in caves as blue as so to blind
and all the while I swam and sired
children pale and full of wild
I took their sweet and guileless souls
and taught them how to swim
amongst the vortex and the shadow
I filled their swiftly beating hearts
with memory and whim
and spooled into their supple ears
the words of folk and kin
and in this act of will and wild
in blue as bright as new spun sun
I was reborn again
I tried all day to write. As the first nightfall married the first snow of this blistering year I felt awake and wine drunk, and the words finally arrived. A new year starts every second, and a new millennium every month. A part of me attempts to deaden my grasp of this world more every year, but there is something to standing in this place that prohibits it. I itch to travel, I yearn to experience. I am thankful that I experience plenty – despite our disparate reality – and amidst this experience I dig deep and re-write as many narratives I have told myself about my life as I can stand.
as if to speak
“bring something sweet”
for you to crush beneath your heel
as if in searching I could find
Your Face
in every long draught
I can speak as
can you see –
but to breath is
full as I can be
My favorite part of the year so far was when you laid three soft kisses behind my ear as I stumbled into consciousness rapt in your limbs.
Draught. n. The drawing of liquid into the mouth or down the throat; an act of drinking, a drink; the quantity of drink swallowed at one ‘pull’.
some kind of thunder
at its grounding
crashbud atop
the kind of earth that
spills itself boundless
into air
“I told you when I came I was a stranger”
snow-blind (in summer!)
and dulled by desire
I, forged, forgotten, fogged
I so often wish I could bring you sensations, moments, bits of the fabric of things. Today, on the edge of the forest, white throated deer ate new leaves off of saplings a few feet away, as I, black clothes stark against the bark, picked sap and brought it to my face. These moments, like the rocks, in some way unmoving, smooth, clever. I wish to bring these to you untarnished by translation, and in the same moment I know it to be impossible. But I know that very soon we will be in the same room – and that that is the closest two humans get to seeing, as one, the quality of light in an afternoon.
Zemer 