“I told you when I came I was a stranger”
“stand to face me beloved
and open out the grace of your eyes”
Everything is strange and I have not been able to believe what my life has become. I am exaltive and overwhelmed.
<Fecundity> and <Wantonness>
the city lifts you on a bicycle
and the wind! The wind on your rich lips!
our eyes alight with tempest
your visage now lost to the crowd
(penned partially in Zagreb May 2016)
“I’m on vacation”
Why must so much of life be convalescent? What is it that we are all so desperate to recover from? Our childhoods? The weight of the life we’ve built?
Is it not possible to enjoy all of our time in this wildly beautiful world? In what grevious reality must our everyday lives be so dull as for us to desire an escape from them?!
People like ripples! Like waves!! People as titillating shots of color across the wilds of substance. Moldeable smudges of thick wind. The reason to be. The reason to run. Felted skeins of wet simile. Ship-weary believers. Threaded points of light. Desirous spools of multicolored years. Limp threats of boil, tongues of endive. A heliotropic phrase book. Wizened dream-state prophesies. A wedge of dark soil. An aching pool of unwashed buck-shot. Tuneable shocks. Twistable You.
[INSTRUCTIONS: PLEASE JUMP TO 22:00 ( CONTAINER [SWE] WHAT CAN I SAY?) FOR SIMILAR CHORD PROGRESSION IN A DELIGHTFULLY DIFFERENT PACKAGE]
It cannot be boiled away!
Who you gonna dance for today?