Hurricanes.
Soon life’s knowing will come, it will dust the mind like talcum. Meanwhile, everyone will dream at least once of times they tried to run but their legs got stuck in the ambivalence of love’s mud, in the imagination’s straining.
Our days are drenched by hurricanes entering sideways in our minds with no warning.
It’s gray where the thinking thinks, where the radar blinks. It’s the surge of you that burns me crimson. I am asleep, asleep all day, blood running, an accident of treason.
My mother was the one who laughed from other rooms while I cried, the division between us multiplied a thousand times.
You say (and I quote) “Don’t do the math” (end of quote), italics mine. (Quote again) “just come here” (end quote). So what if I do? I go nowhere with you, and everywhere.
I am subsonic, plutonic, woebegone, forlorn, language forgotten, towel shared. I am scared, scarred, scarlet letter ‘A’, hermit, Hamlet, tragic, victorious. I am soldier, souvenir, medal of honor attached to your pocket. I am intrinsic, entropic, order, chaotic, limited to this word I have just finished, conception of the infinite. Masculine,
feminine, everything is division; days, dollars, mortgage rates, bequeathed estates.
Leave me with nothing more than your essence. Invisible lover, indivisible number, only then will I remember, remember with my lack of logic.
With you I am myth maker, glass breaker, soul taker, hip shaker. I am tectonic, ironic, sardonic. With you I am purified, pornographic, protean, prolific; for you I am problematic, acrobatic.
Yes, like I said, every crevice that cracks in me I spread for you since that first night in my bed when the flash of my life turned your blue eyes red. And so the story always goes, ending before the author knows.
Our days are drenched by hurricanes entering sideways in our minds with no warning.
Soon life’s knowing will come, it will dust the mind like talcum. Meanwhile, everyone will dream at least once of times they tried to run but their legs got stuck in the ambivalence of love’s mud, in the imagination’s straining.
Our days are drenched by hurricanes entering sideways in our minds with no warning.
It’s gray where the thinking thinks, where the radar blinks. It’s the surge of you that burns me crimson. I am asleep, asleep all day, blood running, an accident of treason.
My mother was the one who laughed from other rooms while I cried, the division between us multiplied a thousand times.
You say (and I quote) “Don’t do the math” (end of quote), italics mine. (Quote again) “just come here” (end quote). So what if I do? I go nowhere with you, and everywhere.
I am subsonic, plutonic, woebegone, forlorn, language forgotten, towel shared. I am scared, scarred, scarlet letter ‘A’, hermit, Hamlet, tragic, victorious. I am soldier, souvenir, medal of honor attached to your pocket. I am intrinsic, entropic, order, chaotic, limited to this word I have just finished, conception of the infinite. Masculine,
feminine, everything is division; days, dollars, mortgage rates, bequeathed estates.
Leave me with nothing more than your essence. Invisible lover, indivisible number, only then will I remember, remember with my lack of logic.
With you I am myth maker, glass breaker, soul taker, hip shaker. I am tectonic, ironic, sardonic. With you I am purified, pornographic, protean, prolific; for you I am problematic, acrobatic.
Yes, like I said, every crevice that cracks in me I spread for you since that first night in my bed when the flash of my life turned your blue eyes red. And so the story always goes, ending before the author knows.
Our days are drenched by hurricanes entering sideways in our minds with no warning.
( Vanessa Daou )
www.ChordsAZ.com