We had a family art night where we tried out an acrylic pour technique and these are the results.
How was it that your skin and my skin got wrapped up in these melodies. Vibrations. Incantations and memories. I can feel you now, closer. Can you feel me too? We look to the sky as if it holds our meaning. You are like a ladybug living in the creases of a door jamb, who may not ever know the full breadth of the sky. Still we wonder why. With your look and my hook we fall back into each others skin, drifting, to our own rhythms. Still, the way forward is back and we’re always trapped, trapped, trapt. Still. Your eyes and my lies are like oceans of sky and we are creators of clouds and rain and mountains of waves. Leave. Don’t leave me. Bleed. Don’t need me. I do not get lonely, I am lonliness. I hold you in my caress and it’s always me me me. Leave, but don’t leave me.
And your body is the harp of your soul,
And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds.
And the wind and pine combine to whistle a melody, but what of that melody if there were no ear to hear ?
and what is the mind, but the engineer of the body’s will
The above quote: Khalil Gibran from The Prophet pg. 81
Casting thoughts of the future like searchlights
this is worship.
The halo of attention sits atop storms of desolate mindscapes
like little bloated O’s floated in bath scum.
Frosted CRISPR Cas13’s deployed
in your morning cereal. Dad says to eat up.
Viruses create havoc— an attempt to take control of the host.
Then ooze blob-like out of the light of attention before turning
into dark smokey shadow to regain the high ground.
With this my daily bread i shall take to infirm the wretched—
part of a complete breakfast!
halos shoot arrows with razor blade precision
germ warfare has been declared. But it’s Dad’s war, and didn’t
he also say not to fight in other people’s wars?
NOW WITH SPECIAL CHOCOLATEY CASING!
Snip the disease of our humanity
until we are no longer human.
Now we started a war
that we can’t win.
When I woke up this morning immediately words repeating.
sat up and looked over at my two girls sleeping in bed with me.
my words are like food to fill the soul, the heart.
that time, remember, you drifted through the crowd with purpose and ease. You saw every way forward, every crease. With only one aim in your heart: to feel the music. Toward the thumping speakers you drift, beating with the rhythm that held your whole body together, held the earth in place. Holy melodies shook thunder from the dome-sky. All you wanted was to feel it, coursing through your entire body, like aching desire. And there was no stopping you. Remember? the sweet release.
(it’s like that)
Falling and flailing, it seems wildly, but, in fact its what we’re programmed to do when we’re falling. I can feel the jet streams taking me, not unlike a leaf. I was in the clouds, but now I’m falling and the mantra in my head: trust the ground. This happens every time I’m falling like this. And just when it feels like I’ll be falling forever the ground reaches out and takes me from the air. Like getting smacked in the back of the head. I am absorbed into her, I am her, and then filtered through her. This is when the ground becomes the clouds and I’m dangling with my head in my new set of clouds, waiting to fall again.