mr. wearing
“what does being unconscious mean?”
“same as death.
no difference between day and night
no thoughts at all
—day and night the same”
poltergeist
how many hands how many faces
how many arms and legs and hips and lips
lumps and stretches, missing peices
chests and breasts and hairy places
how many forms would i need to take
how many bodies would i need to possess
before i could love them all completely
how many raptures and exorcisms
before i see the spirit clearly
creation
and so i fell into you, an empty nothing. looking for a place to be forever breathless
and oh how you were so empty. save that rocky bottom against which i now lie crushed and broken
(how i wish to keep falling)
i dream of turning you over, and scraping my self off what would then be a rocky ceiling. dripping off stalactites (the former stalagmites against which i am currently impaled)
falling. this time in reverse forming myself back into something whole, something beautiful. falling. this time breath filling my lungs, an endless inhalation taking back all those divine parts of me i so recklessly gave to you. falling. this time not into an empty nothing, but into an endless something.
a lustrous, primordial, maternal, eternal, ever-so-endless someplace something
unconditional
half of infinity is still infinite
and the middle of forever is still forever.
so even if this moment is only a fraction of
my love for you,
a single second has never been so boundless.
april
forgetful in the moment, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror
—oh, sweet child.
who left you alone to walk between abandoned walls and shopping malls?
you wandered from your mother.
you wandered from the grass. and the trees and the mud.
but it’s spring time now
and the earth is waiting
sea breeze
shallow waters wash my feet on
sandy shores of past imprints
waves that kindly free me from
a future self i never sought
and now in golden peace i turn
to greet the blue horizon