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’.
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.
This song plays in my head as I stand on the fence across from the mall. Quickly, urgently, I smoke a cigarette. A single drop of rain falls on the corner of my mouth. This brings me into the sense-memory of kissing you. There is visceral truth in these tightly-spun lyrics.
I, unhinged, sorry
Hold care for you
Begin to love`
And who else
I am (slowly)(too quickly?) finding a place to stand after a long time of not needing (or wanting) to
“stand to face me beloved
and open out the grace of your eyes”
I lean my head on his shoulder and try not to cry
(over and over I burrow into him, cowering in the face of such complexity)
I offer you music in two different spirits. The first is that of rejoicing, of proclamation – an expression of joy or gratitude – an outpouring. The second is that of invocation – a plea and a call to arms, a desire for the magic of the song to seep into my being and feed me.
This is thrown out in the second spirit.