a presence inspired by the production of perpetual passion. or perhaps vice versa. processual prose for the preservation of captivating moments. memory must exist to exist. i capture moments to make it so. "claudelean are you awake?" always. "if you could have one wish what would it be?" for an instant to forget my body. with a mind of material, i attempt to write out what is within. it helps me forget my body to make matter.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Seasky
Waves turn their bodies and fall against the skirts of the sand Shells crumble and break like glass Clouds hang like ornaments In a blue stretch of time. And I, I resemble a future self—a body that melts in the shoreline, a fabricated figure woven into hanging arms and a torso trunk. My strangling legs wrap around this mounting form and at a distance a difference of selves cannot be figured. I do not mind this tangle, how I have been caught, submerged into temperatures that shock more than physicality. Landscape imagery grows around me, as the water breaks inside my hand Scraping my palm and leaving another scarred wrinkle (I have been effected). The sun drips on to my lids. Eyes poke open to avoid the burning sensation of sight, as a lash falls uselessly. I see blue marble eyes (my fixation is unbreakable) that match the cloth of the sky that has been designed behind him, for him. I feel pacified and can no longer tell whether his eyes stand before the sky or the sea For I am high above both, yet inside of them too.
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