Posted by marko on 1/1/2007, 8:12 am, in reply to "81-86" it’s difficult to explain the look she gave me. i don’t understand if it were predictable, don’t you think i’d have it harnessed i have little ambition beyond painting over the advertising scene 90 i have one minute so i can’t go over-the-top, or start chewing scene 91 there’s no turning back. no time for one hundred-eighty
65.167.39.251
scene 87
it myself. as if she knew me from somewhere. somewhere
that neither of us remembered. somewhere we spoke in lost
conversation. it may have been a soulful exchange, or we
may have been killing time. we might have passed it back
& forth as direct mind transmission, or in a nagahyde booth
in an all night diner. i could tell by the way she searched
my eyes that she could feel it too. that much was undeniable.
it may have been partly body language. maybe it was roman
numerals. maybe it was all that space that surrounds total
silence. the implications were there, but weren’t expressed
in gospel or sutra or upanishad or secret lover’s words. but
in a translation that is its own scripture. with none others close.
with no two anything but. talking in circles? i suppose. but
that’s how it sounded to me. that’s how i read those lips.
scene 88
it by now. at least a little tug. don’t you think id’ have my
fingerprints all over it. or would it overwhelm anyone
who thought too long. would it burn the flesh right off
not only the philistines but angels. would it take down
anyone who got it wrong the first try. would it be very
dangerous business. universal at first glance, but completely
individual the further we dig. if it were predictable, do you
think i’d be standing here talking to you now, instead of
bathing in the glow, slipping in & out between flawless
thighs, gliding into narcotic tapestry that wraps its art around
us in all the ways we imagined, & all the ways we missed,
& we can’t believe how we ever missed them.
scene 89
with the loudest colors i could get my hands on. i have
little knowledge of what i do beyond impulsive & obsessive
nature that implodes in on itself, then explodes screaming
miles away from where it started. i have little understanding
of how i do what i do, beyond throbbing desire with veins
bulging, begging for a chance to get it down. i have little
explanation concerning what i create or destroy beyond
answering questions with more questions because there
are no absolutes up here (pointing to my head) that can
be named or described, so everyone would see the way i do.
i can’t tell you why i keep grinding away at it beyond the
need to cover from here to there—a mind in constant flux.
i have little reason to let go beyond fear of abandonment.
i have little reason to hold on beyond saving my life.
the scenery, or stepping on other’s lines. one minute to
make my point. one minute to light it up or find a place to
hide. one minute to put it bluntly, truthfully, but with a poetic
touch hopefully. to lay it out on the page before i lose my
nerve. to spill my head, leaving something behind. nothing
that belongs to another. something that doesn’t need my
signature as proof. i have one minute to fill the belly of the
myth, or the heart of flesh & bone. one minute that could
pass for anything. a moment or eternity. forward or backward.
fallen or pushed. one minute to confess or cover my tracks.
i need a minute to thread the world together so it doesn’t
come apart. a minute to slide in & grab the wheel. one minute
that’s now up.
degrees of second thought or going up in flames. so tell me
why. why you’re still here beside me in spite of it all. make
me believe. i want to believe. roll away the stone with deviant,
but beautiful behavior. throw me a kiss. aim for the juicy
parts. raise the tower toward the heavens with down &
dirty bump & grind persuasion. give me an example if
nothing else. something i can riff off & run with. something
that stirs my imagination beyond. that blows the top off,
& miraculously brings a hundred dead birds back to life,
& they fly out of the question. we’ve come too far to
turn back. we’d never make it back before dark. hold me so
close i can feel coming & going simultaneously. shock still
in a revolving cast of strangers & saviors, in a baby blue vortex,
a drop dead maelstrom, a gyrating can’t stay away any longer.
Message Thread:
« Back to thread