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Oct 2011 · 688
Photograph Song
jordan Oct 2011
Long drives, full of smoke, conversations melting into aurora’s milky shades after losing time in words; searching for it in each other’s eyes
Winter snow warmed by your thighs
Everywhere inside your voice, velvet blankets, curled in our cocoon
Engineering butterflies, highlighted by sun-varnished fields
In the car and in our eyes we saw eachother’s (two others together, not one another but an other ) minds smiling suspended, a suspected coming seduction
Your smell enveloping the pillow for days after, mid-day sleep for your touch and afternoon naps for your body, midnight slumber for your eyes, and morning red-eyed serenity for your thoughts
A necessity and a need
Pretending that IT’s not there
But IT’s everywhere
And she’s out of town so I’ll stay with you
And we know in the shower, we know in the kitchen, we know as my fingers slide through hair to tame the beast in your wild curls behind left ear
Pearl cream and warm caverns of electric heat, living pulsating oceans dripping rhythm and blues, exploring sensation.  
As you remove the protection
and we can feel the concave and convex atom fit atom,
completing complex patterns and opening eachother’s wonders: from
Closed to open to fixated pupils to lights on and conscious of each prickly soft sensation building each moment forming each expanse of your silky body
A reality so dreamy in time, so blue neon in memory
But imagined into dark corners, madebelieved-backed-out of existence…again and again
The car becomes the motions of goodbye, oh but for a month, oh but for a few, oh but for a forever year, and finally a never
And I travel 2000 miles to die in forgotten Springfield
And it becomes real after that white horribly glowing hospital, wanderers scraping of their faces but mostly just failing at suicide and everything: all. at. once.
We know now and don’t pretend
Telephone vibrations heating our voices entwining our choices, imagined bodies and pictured eyes
The love that radiates as if a star you see but only after it has already died, burned itself alive millions of miles away
Aesthetic aftershocks of your heartbeat running against my chest those nights of that laugh tickling the corners of my ear
Now where even Time fails us, a mist gracefully bowing over the water as it recedes with its illusion of contact
Now like something that has lost all edges: an image, a symbol, a perfect form escaped from the world of perfect forms, the empty form of eternal comparison or the shattering porcelain gavel
Now too broken
Now too high
Now too late to bring my baby home.
Deaf into that obsidian dream hanging
like a new moon behind everything,
the northwest-telephone rainy and cold
And it’s gone
But I remember seeing myself inside your eye, your reflection dancing in mine, the space between possibility
Jun 2010 · 882
she fixes her hair
jordan Jun 2010
She fixes her hair, passing before

A ***** glass door—

They see her through pillars of paper

Coffee cups hiding difference of taste

Yet together, her change escapes them

Or remains a treasure, a harvest nourishing

Her reflection smiling with fingers trying

To ripen while reaching, to soften to smooth

To straighten and sooth something that seems

Pleasing.



So the conversation is stopped—a smile

Has arrested, through ruined paper pillars

Of empty coffee cups, broken

Through the pale reflection of her hair,

Tangled in the ***** green tint of glass, glances

Sideways,

Wondering:



Is her smile meant to pierce the door and lay naked

Invitations to rest upon the pauses, the places

Where the conversation is deserted by words?

Or to dance silently back and forth; to remain

Like a jeweled earring or hair tie on her wrist

Orbiting the rushed morning’s hushed

Reminders written alone.



Ah, but for the beating ocean nothing is broken.

Her hair, her braids, never break, never

Break like the tide, on rocks into mist to kiss

The ocean-side air

Like crystal clouds that coat the sky,

That crack and clear and come to call

A bit of blue to splinter through to split the sky’s

            Sheet of grey to shine.

She stares still.

Blank.

Searching, thinking of fixing something shining

Brushed and sharing the sun with the sky.

— The End —