Einbahnstraße in a night of black arrowheads/jazz, obliteration perfume/ the twinkle of your eyes which are engulfed by youthful nymphs
Fur-lined sable coat & I in a jean jacket, hair styled back/ the perspiring windows of Paul Gustavus open to reveal alizarin (death of day) velvet curtains (an appetite for moonlight & mirrors) the reverberation echochamber settles over us infused with alcohol and tea leaves
Basement seclusion, Deutsch in every direction
Woodstove heat/harsh truths exist in a Blue Rose of cackling ash, left disentangled ... duskdancer and copperhue-rooftop Saharas billowing madly
conversation as a room full of isolation, lip - eye, breath - hairline/drifting to attic enticement, bedsheets ruffling like a winged dove
I am a North American phantom speaking through written paragraphs
& on my second drink a voice persuasively licks my thigh/come up from the uneven ground
"feed the moon
-blindness & burden, parish your anticipation for fire"
In my restlessness later on, I realize all I can do is keep my head high, mimic hope, mimic strength knowing we are but one brief collision of beautiful time purposed to split off again towards a chaos larger than ourselves.
Remembering The Woman in The Dunes..
"There was a drooling wolf...there was the sun. And, somewhere, he knew not where...there must also be a storm center and lines of discontinuity"
our own repitition of love & labor, warding off the deathhand which always comes back around
... How far do we have to go for lasting tenderness?
Australian sand/I erase my flesh in Summer fruit/the air is thick, I have stopped wearing leather
With iron humility I task myself to tillling a steeple into a breaking cloudbeam