Touched so deeply
I almost bleed
But the red-hot liquid
pouring out of me
Is not red.
MY INSIDES ARE BURNING WITH DESIRE
NOT WITH PHYSICAL DESIRE, BUT WITH THE DESIRE TO
PRESS MY SOUL AGAINST YOURS.
TO SHARE IN OUR SOULS AS
PEOPLE SHARE IN A MEAL.
FROM A PLACE SO DEEP WITHIN ME,
DEEPER AND MORE LIQUID THAN THE
CORE OF THIS VERY EARTH
HOLDING UP MY BONES. SO THEY CAN
MY BONES I THINK THEY ARE MEANT TO
BREATHE LIFE INTO YOUR EYES.
bearing our souls
barefooted, our soles.
bearing the weight
of only our bare
the days bleed
as I do with the moon
cut into shapes
I hold them in my hand with a furrowed brow.
the leaves are falling in slow motion.
the leaves are f a l l i n g i n s l o w m o t i o n
T. Robbins tells of autumn, it breeds the birth of death
so the smell of the birth of death lingers
on the ground, under our bare feet.
when winter passes
the leaves will float back up to the trees
and then death is dying.
the leaves become alive with green
the sun warms winter bones
so the smell of life spreads from the trees to the ground
where I stand dying
in slow motion.
we are all d y i n g i n s l o w m o t i o n
bones encased in muscled sinewy epiderm
muscles and bones with the fat carved out
that move through the earth
move the earth
carve the fat out of the earth
and left what is of the earth,
that of white bones, dried and dust in the sun
feet with the bones sticking out
walk over the soft mounds of earthly flesh,
the jagged steeples, the cool padded flats.
but no footprints shall they leave,
in their place small drops
spattered red, deep and dark
bearing likeness to that from which they came
upon the rippling mirror,
delicately they slip under
under to where sound and light cease
and existence is defined by feel
white flesh, white bones
flesh on flesh
fire in the belly
mouth on mouth
strain to smother
bodies to ashes
scattered o'er fileds
I will line my ribcage with leaves
fill it with earth
and plant your spirit