my mind like letters
sits shelved and
quiet,
collecting dust,
degenerating,
dreaming
of the time it
will feel the rumble
of the cabinet
cracking open,
the sliver of light
passing over
and becoming active
from the hand
that selects
words
for conceiving
thought.
Can’t you see this isn’t the idea
You were meant to be like me
and not me like you.
But the universe said something different
and here I am…
Being, like you I am
It’s still here though the idea of you
in me. I can see, physically, that I am like you
through genetics and science and whatnot
we share the same blood, you and I
So like you am I.
But where does it end this link to each other
Can you see me as I see you
In the mirror we are the same you and I
Your face is my face
Can you feel this as I stitch your name across my chest
Your name… Our name…
Try as I might I am like you
Your life is my life
Your heart is my heart
and through this we are linked,
you and I.
Me and You.
Their voices slowly fade,
she stands there mind racing until she is completely alone.
She waits to breathe easily again.
Eyes closed, hesitant to open,
arms, turn to hands, then, fingers intertwining overhead,
torso swaying,
her smile melts, the fake expression vanishing off her face. Soul at ease but empty,
looking blankly, focused on a reflection she knows too well.
Set on a wall of mirrors,
possessed by the fluid movements it mimics.
She sighs as each of her feet leave the ground,
weightless for a moment,
and,
in an instant she feels the cold hard wood against her blistered, bloodied, broken toes.
Click, click,
{My memory}
Click, Click,
S
C
R
O
L
L
Click, click
Delete?
{So you want to delete that,
too bad,}
My mind is not silicon or circuitry,
but it dreams in digital,
html, css, binary, and flash flowers flow.
From my memory to code,
I become the web,
the intangible,
the fleeting,
and impermanent.
Quickly I am reduced to ruins by the next
update, catch me if you can.
I am the digital age
made flesh and blood by
fate and timing,
I am the foundation
that will inevitably crumble,
I will be lost to time,
but I’ve made my
mark,
I hit the target,
and I flew farther then
my predecessors thought
was possible,
I am the beginning of something more,
that surpasses time,
My memory lives on.
Apparently
I write well.
This comes as something of a surprise
Because I feel out of practice
And I so seldom write what I like to read.
But somehow I manage to capture
People, struggle, emotion and
Put them to a page.
With my words I can give people feelings,
Teach them about the world.
Even as this power bemuses me.
There are worse super heroes to be
Worse powers to try to wrangle, or I
Tell myself that when
I never can wash of the ink from my hands
The people in my life are tired of hearing about
Whatever I’ve written
Or when my characters decide they don’t like my plot.
I wouldn’t trade it even still,
This magical power of words.
(Your) pheromones
passed my nostrils
and melted all but my skin.
Everything liquid
I’m in there somewhere,
swimming
sinking
diving
drowning.
And suddenly I am drained and my body is dry
and thirsty
and I am a fish flopping on a desert dune
and my body is so desolate
and thirsty.
and I wish I could have breathed in
for a just moment longer
or longer.
I stand vertical holding in the air I’ve just inhaled,
here I wait for the exhalation that your touch will bring as
fingertips brush the backs of my heels.
Slowly out of the warmth of my hinges the small of my back
emerges as the ground your feet covet
I sink into you,
as you into me
(I am in your hands)
Soon my field of vision flows in a backwards incline,
neck draping gingerly as I become buoyant atop your two
sturdy stacked trunks
I allow myself to breathe, coaxing my spine to sink into the ease of an arch
As hands find the shallows of my collar bone we sink deeper,
legs seep down with gravity,
we descend deeper as I allow your ever shifting feet to
manipulate my petite frame.
This is a permeable game of trust,
the necessity for comfort-ability in the very real possibility of falling
Is here
a loss in grip, in footing, in breath
yet the counterbalance that is achieved sends me to flight
I am a bird
I feel strong
The wrought iron hinges of me,
bend to your warm milk of a touch
I meld into your depths,
the creases you create as tension eases all else.
In this simple porcelain womb, I can truly be embodied
Releasing my belly
Relinquishing my breath
Retaliating my soul
Remembering my spirit.
Layers relax, skin opening
days shrugging off
shoulders a little lower
breath moving, no longer held so tightly
sinking out of lungs
surrendering them to the rest of humanity.
Here
it is dark,
the sun does not allow you to move more quickly
lost
in a timeless room.
held in this warm liquid
(I’m reminded)
watching the flickering shadows
hearing the tiny bubbles popping.
Thats
when she comes forth to speak,
and i’m ready to
Listen!
all covered in rehydrated rose petals
-the tips of red cedar fronds,
frolicking on my sacred lawn.
Trace the body
to understand,
memorize a memory
transparent and rubbed
with charcoal to be
revealed.
I dream
for a moment
and my skin slides off
my muscles as they drop
away from my bones
as they loosen my joints
as my mind exceeds
my body and I
disappear through the thick
of my thoughts that trail
after a memory that covers
the land that stretches out
over and back
into my body
and I feel that tiny burst
of relief as time lets go
and I fall free
and unfinished to tangle
with leaves in the tree.