Tuesday, June 9, 2009

objects (mikrokosmos)

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world

my blood approves, and kisses are a better fatethan wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry—the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other:then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

____ee cummings

the car is missing a tail-light. not to worry. plastic can remedied. it drives on in the night, making a clickclick sound everytime a left-hand-turn is signalled; there is a sound but no flashing light. just that sound. and the purr of a little engine. a pod on a road. satellites in orbit no one but lovers staring into the sky might see.

wearing boots is like driving an off-road vehicle. it suddenly becomes agreeable to walk across mud and grass. to take delight in hearing little puddles in the gravel crunch and squirm underfoot.

the bow-tie preferentially tilts to the right. one ear constantly to the sky. it's just checking if it might rain. if the sun is at its zenith. if there are birds what they are saying. it seems small. a little ribbon around a little neck. an elaborate noose. but it is beautiful. like a button-nose on a baby. or an old lady's one functional eye, widely evaluating you. every other woman that passes me adjusts it, but it is stubborn. turns again. a screwed up eye. off in the distance, there on the shoal, you can see the children laughing. how far.

twirling the pen was a bad idea. i was aware it had a tendency to leak, now there are little bulbous blue stars all over the table and my papers. my hands are blue. i rub my fingers together, spreading the colour so i have a light tinge of atmosphere. i imagine myself ethereal. incorporeal. transcending. dissolving. 'Mike, what are you doing?'____i'm startled. i turn my head slowly from side to side, gesturing who knows as i rub my fingers into the shaft of the pen.

she pulls the tie out from under my v-neck sweater. she turns, dragging me by my leash across the dancefloor. eventually she stops and i land with my front to her back. she is holding my tie over her shoulder. i breath into her hair a little. then i take a step back. sip my Redbull. she turns to face me.

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