I kneel upon your lips, hold my hand to my face, kiss my fingers, and press my little hand–kiss upon the stub tip of your upper lip.
Tag: heart book
Incendiary
I light my candle because it exists. Damn candle, brightness piercing through my tears.
Unfoldment
From star to star, from molten blob to smoldering ice, so many journeys from hot to cold to get things just right. Ah, so many fields of foliage — waves of miracle — each unfolding in their time to the sun, wave overlapping waves. When I wonder at my shoots, or fuss at how graceful my leaves, or worry how straight my tendrils, I gaze around and reflect wherein I am a part of; I am beautiful because I am a part of you.
Rock, Paper, Scissors
Those schemes: so much distraction — paper-cut smarts and then up in smoke. Life is written all over my hands. The ink: so much blood.
Canvas
To possess an artist’s canvas I make space upon my wall and put up something crafted so well and is so bold it never gets old. An artist has the whole world upon which to hang. Her most prized possession is new canvas or a person or a new tatoo.
Abundance
I
Of this vast, radiant universe, I am of but one star. Would the panoply be precious strewn were not each glimmer a signal of richness? Of the multitude of criaturas on this round world, I am but one being. Would humanity be a proud species were not each a beacon? I count my cells, my breaths, my sunrises and sunsets, my schemes and dreams, my depths and feelings, my world that I take up and embroider. Each human is created from other humans, each star from stars. I have craved to be more human, more starry. I let it be and the riches without are become within. I beg no more. Let me digest what I partake in.
II
Those indiscretions I was so careful to demur, they are for the taking. The paltry world bursts into color. My so-called evil is humane life. Everything is good like it should be. My heart grows in this soil. The evil name-calling drove me to starving; I was desperate enough to take what ill-suited me. What suits me is enough; perhaps everything in its own place.
III
Universe, thank you for the flash flood that canceled the trains that got me back to the metro where I find myself as the sunlight streams sitting behind two young friends one with a freckled shoulder bare but for straps, black camisole over scarlet bra, and a head whose mane is wild multi-colored orange, and the other saying “I have seen a lot of things, too…” from the back of her neck’s tattoo.
IV
Bounding
Stepping into Rock Creek, the name becomes obvious. I hop from slab to slab and wonder, but the journey reveals the river. I perceive the small stones’ certainty. I throw my weight into it and befriend gravity; rocks far off come within my leap. I commit myself bodily over water; amid the momentum, I bound upon the unveiling path.
Too much to ask
I love you. I adore you. I admire you. A selfish love, if that. Greedy, for me your precious spark. Would do things for it without waiting to know whether it’s suitable, it’s tailored to your heart. I dare not ask the measurements. I imagine it boundless, boundless enough to embrace this fondness. Please.
Tidal
Beat; beat. The waves curl and break within my body, up my torso, up my shoulders, and burst into my throat, incessant, insistent, so constantly ardent. Where to? Where to? Where are you going? Oh, where are you going?
The Love
If you allowed you to love yourself, the rough diamonds languidly studding all the curves of your underground, you would understand how silly it is to wish you were more. You already are so much.