a song shared by rachmaninov and sunlight

maybe somewhere there is a close up closed down living room walls reach you even here slowing down to the pace of all sentient beings: evolve.

so a broken bone melody and a soaring tune that sounds the way a woman tastes (you, just eager in the morning; waiting) so some less subtle life will break like waves (the ones you stole from the sea) like just (just like) the rest of us: a random uncalculated spin cycle out and down through loneliness and being: alive smiles doors rocking chairs and breathing machines we are bending like days

there is only a little light to be had

so a broken bone melody and stolen kisses, mowed lawns pedicured princesses and walks to the garbage bin: these are the minutes we live through (this is alleyway life growing old)

i can't remember the way i felt when first hearing your song lasting out lashing out with all the breakfast fervour of a monk the way your songs slide downwards (like so many souls do)

these are always your mornings like this when clouds move through and over (rooftops for trees) and out...

so i rise: i am not the morning or the night just standing out and arms raised slowing down to the speed of solar systems i reach the room where all the silence between the notes plays day and night (solstice to sunrise)

and these old locks like broken bone melodies rage day from night and strap sequences to your breaths (i have been the undersides of eyelids twice with you) and once more is too long

no more open wounds or wind wars: your arms are closing.

i have found, in all of these strange symptoms, the size of morning and every footstep that melts into gold, just living is all is all we can ask or need

so soldiering on is more than mastery of the front step or stone and closer to being born (a charge of static electricity and then down, quiet)

what i'm looking for feeling here certainly as much as anywhere but long and languid (heelmarks like street signs) and more perfect still...

we are not just doors not just downsides and digits driver's license and drainage-monsters: we wake like everything everywhere and onwards.

we live as only mortals do.

2005-09-24 | 9:04 p.m.
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