the great nod theory

tonight brings call from angel on a strange platter: adoration. i am sitting here now, running through a series of conversations in my head, flipping pages through minefields, solving problems written in the sand. i am finding, lately, that it is easier, finer to move forward with a subtleness and already i feel better about so many things (uncounted as stars). i can feel strange volcanic seethings just below the surface of my skin: there are word achings etching themselves out, digging in with all the fervor of a tick, but more magical rose-blossom leaches.

i'm here and somewhere else at once all the time. tonight i am here, typing, ranting, and there, watching her pack her things for her trip, watching her legs pull under her as she walks, watching her bed to pick up things, folded in her arms and place them in bags, watching her switch the wash from spin cycle to dryer. admiring the carpet for it's deft character, it's unwillingness to fold beneath our feet: loving that a creature like her has the same ground to walk on as the rest of us: preciousness.

iron and wine is playing a little at a time in the background while i'm here, humming a bit, making noise but only in the way that people with no real musical ability can, purely. in my head, there are pages turning, learnings had, words first read or heard and i am infatuated with all the curvings of phrases, the language of great mysteries and further flauntings. in here, most things wonderful begin.

there's a lamp i brought home from the office sitting on my floor and i am fascinated by it's bent top, the bulb portion leaned underneath, the chord wrapped around the base and somehow looking at it, i feel better about life, better about the motions of rivers, the baking of wheats and yeasts, the growing of all things from seeds, the bursting forth of blooms from greenness, nothingness. i am standing in a tide of airs and flows, movement is everywhere.

with closed eyes, i can remember the moment of falling in love, the instant when sleepwalking faded to clarity and world where anything is possible, nothing is beyond our reach, the last of the doors are open and all windows bring fresh sea oxygen and the scent of life spurned on and i am gauging all things now by the taste of fruits and the tangilibity of summer heat. these things are entire and throughout me more so than white blood cells or anxious ankles.

i am remembering the curling of her back, the pressing of her small folds and flesh into my face, the tremors sprung forth from her fingers on me, her hands in my hair, conversations while i was inside her about the expectancy of names and yearnings go deeper than meremac and from them: fresh wines, sweet fragrant secretions, milk.

even i am unearthly just now, i am billowing, overrun with thoughts, notions, sensations had only in the mind, only in the darkest of crevaces where the smooth creatures come forth from. overcome. wanting. i can feel the spreading out of clouds, the clearing of fields by no means other than having been there, the characteristics of great mapmakers and i'd like to map her mind: now i can, but only breifly.

it's more than a thing to hold onto.

2004-04-21 | 7:37 p.m.
0 comments so far