great glows falls

I can�t tell you exactly how it happens, it just does. Sometimes you�re seething, foaming at the gums for revelation, sometimes you�re quiet and then, out of nowhere: it falls on you. An idea of dime-store novel proportions, images of flowing dresses or men on shining horses or hair that flutters in the wind. I am always awake when it happens.

Sometimes it comes when I am at rest, when I am sleeping, but it jars something loose inside, shakes some lonely particle of dust or white blood cell into alertness. I am trying to get at what happens, but the words are feeble, I am trying, with little luck to lock it down into partitions which can be unearthed, explained, turned into numerical values on pages or added up in graphs and flowcharts: we are, most of us, a gathering of wants and awakenings. I am getting closer. I am digging up the part of you that has lodged itself inside me so that I can study it at length, so that I may conduct routine experiments on it�s functions and values. This part of me, the part I am trying to dig into, is yours. it the part of me that rests in your sometimes uncareful hands, it is the collections of words, ideas, systems and lusts that fall through my skin when your name is mentioned, even if in reference to someone else, some other less awing entity in the cosmic dust: someone with your name, but not your features, a creature from another womb on some other little hill in some other off-white room that slipped free from the nest that is the inside of a woman. The day our freedom becomes our chains.

Oh, you�re an ocean away sometimes, smiling. I am thinking about the arguments over cloning, abortion, capital punishment, healthcare, magic. I am temporarily under construction. I miss you.

2004-04-07 | 5:08 p.m.
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