You seem to be just a dream, your Face melting along the line of a horizon, like each fucking day repeats. You become
formless. Frozen, back. My Little Bunker Object. Personal solitude & the multiplicity of duration, waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Definition: to not approach the surface, but dig to the core. I’ll lick you down to the bottom, where I know I’ll find myself glaring back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some days, it seems, no one will ever answer me. The elasticity of my curiosity. Suffer it, the breath of Spring blow, below such hum-drum & the memory of your embrace, a furnace firth, sprung forth, to fuse with one body, grown white, with one eye-socket, struck a sudden, sunstroked in May.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
She drops her Keys
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Going over my Keys with nothing better to do
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I see the Look in their Eyes, in this Town, I register, without a Doubt, I could consume each One
~~~~~~~~~~~~
See, there is this intersection that I cannot fathom, between form & formlessness, the Changing Force of Facial Skin, the aching bones & blood or------------->The Life’s coagulated bridge says-------->“form, without”------>here stilling in this Field again, renewed as of home----->this is not Home-------->this is not------------>I am not home
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I get the feeling we’re slipping further away from Something, dear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This question is directly applied to you, pressed still from my mouth to image.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know what tomorrow will bring.
& I’ve already forgotten
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Already Spring again & your image, that of your tongue moving gracefully from one corner of your mouth to the other, brings me forth, chapped over, the Country too in all its little particulars. I rise forward, over the tilled region, working dry, the Field, the same, finished, blue bulb of anticipation, attempting to wrap my body, arms, then legs, over, chin into the nook, of the nape where now I crave to pace anxiously on-------------------->straining wildly in my inelegance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But I’m still here waiting as always, for Something
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yes, I know what you’re thinking.
This is a bit too Precious.
& to be Honest, I don’t have much time for Words today, or waiting in this waiting to be Waiting in waiting towards a Waiting in this waiting, weighing me down
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m not all Sentimental like this I am all Sentimental indeed
