a blur bends

“…what are you thinking?”

And we begin like a moon pulling from a cloud, the village is flooded in a light, a throb on the air.

like all the tuned strings hum awake and open, the inward suck at the charge- already there are a million of them, are awash over spaces between us like a magic lantern, twisting through the strands of your hair.

dancing amidst and sliding upon your red red lips, hissing through the first few steps of the dance. scrambling up the cliffs, swooping

I cup the backs of your shoulder blades and pull the surge of you into the core of me, pressing ribs against the throbs of heart, your lungs along the rafters of me.

we hang each like birds in heavy winter air, like wet coiled vines from mossrock faces, frozen race like water spilling into void, music into ink. hung harps in trees

i can’t help feeling filled like a tired planter box suddenly leaping into life at the lark call, like its morning after 100 years.

the sternum and the arc crux, collar bone finery graces the lace slip and slope of you, trees racing by in the snow, the spiraling wind in stripes and sonnets… we’re so dressed up, lady, our evening best.

whispers and calls the morse codes expedited of your white teeth smiling through a locals legends and pantheons devoted to this our one night. they huddle over fire

your blood and sails press on me a brick of runes, im staring at them move, the pinpricks of light and the transcendent message, sprigs and sparrows blowing at the borders, trenching wells of stars, drowning hell in green.

Can’t translate but i already know. The blowing wind billowing by.

I am all about you, staring mad eyed, blissful and hungry, breathing into your eyes, singing into your mouth, careful enunciating syllables into your navel.

My fingertips slide down your back, the pillow a cat curling quiet around your ears, temples, your hips rising slowly at the oak groan and growing heat.

Atlas never had it so well. I am a ladder. I am literally a ladder. Sky and sky

Your feet plant at my sides and you bloom in shoots of sunflower, your face turning side to side, tracking the light and my laughing face, rolling in the flow and flux.

Foxes springing through thrush and the lush yellow fields, beneath this cobalt eternity we glow enormous, cackling at the moon and the snails, racing past birds and lakes, the world tiny as rumpled remains of an eraser on an empty page.

Hips in strain.

Still riding eachother across the sky into heat and a haste which quickens and slows, mows past the constellations and the chord clusters, past the quiet boarders sleeping nearby in sweaters and their mystery lives.

we’ve escaped from the pale eyed soup of headlights hail into this cave, the walls sprayed in sound and the echoes found and the amps on beneath us and between us, every sound an explosion, every pause a millenium.

As your back arcs up my spine turns inward, my eyes turn to who knows what, suddenly i know all things. how to live forever, how to make gold, how to avoid cold, why i never sleep with a pillow, where all things go.

your hands are holding at my spook hermit ribs, a Franciscan come to know love, free of the satchel and the suffering, free of the robe,birds and more birds, the singing and the singing, sighs and sight and nothing but light.

abrupt as an edge you grasp and you flip, and i’m fit to the boat that had held you, as you tower above in the stars and clouds.

fire at your back and the first glimmers of dawn tracing at your breasts between streams and the sleeping flocks, the slid salt kiss and the lilt of each hit and miss as the castles attempt to fuse themselves through cannon fire.

slowly ajoining walls and legs, foundations felt in a quiet gel, acutely aware of the heavy helmet, rainment, we’re glistening by streetlights and plate glass, silhouettes slating across the horizons of you, faraway highways and flitters of an apocalyptic morning farewell, no, we’re impregnable til the morning comes.

you are halfway to song and suddenly we are a train, everything leaps to life as the turbines budge and we lock in step, clanking over one and the next rail, lurching forward at the oars and sprint, gaining spead and a cloud, each town playing across our brows through the thick haze, mazes of terracing and maps we will ignore.

charcoals burn hot in the far corner folds of us, all weight playing from one side of the mail car to the other, the passengers grabbing chairs, screaming, staring wide eyed from their seats over the serene countryside, what could it be?

you’re pressing your hands into me, your head back to the furthest, feeling the shape of you, the violin sound of your stretched neck, eyes closed and focused on the tone, several and simultaneous, the quarter notes stretched over eternities.

Your hips thrust and slide, lamplight spilling over the roads, lids and the lips of you, fog on the windows, rhythms of all the familiar songs sirens aflicker over our faces as we press button after button, sorting through the billion faces, tracking, parched, racing across the night sky.

we are back in bed, alacrity far tearing by we are- our hands and heads and S shapes and mouth gapes, we’re chairs and vases falling from every table, all darting shocks and shaking buoy on a simmersea stirred in rock and blackbirds, we’re shaking letters into slack-jawed alphabets, the sand into the morning, the stories back into the bookworlds, the molecules into the sunbeams that push us apart into dream and day.

We’re spreading ravines through the vineyards, bolting through a wake of agendas and doilies, straining against thighs and soundbarriers, faster than light and sound, slipping into the lightning cloud, blue and white streaked in and through our eyes, hair on end, teeth in illumination

a blur never ends, it bends


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