a nexus of nerve-endings,–
a never-ending, + ceasing-too-soon
display of our skin’s ec/static circuitry ::
your limbs, illumined, plug into mine.
[i’ve never known these nodes to glow so bright.]
im/pulses flash in energ/etic hues
as my wires entangle [+ enter] you.
“Involuntarily, I glanced seaward – and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Great Gatsby’
Across the digital bay
a beacon, small and green,
flashes, and is gone.
The current: silent, static,
but for a spare grey tick –
the crest of curious interest
not piqued enough to peak
and break the radio-waves.
from the spool of one tight-spun syllable
unreel my vow(els),—
Woman in an urban womb,–
A martyr to the morning sun.
Imprisoned; prismatic. A shore
For the brutal brood of shades which teeth outdoors,–
A palate, pacifying to milky hues.
She’s hostage to the high-rise light,
With thoughts like an Atlantis, unexplored.
Outward-glaring, never to gaze behind,–
To swim in the sea-green mirage of her mind.
Airborne swimmer, in flight, she does not cling to herself; she is dispersible, prodigious, stunning, desirous and capable of others, of the other woman that she will be, of the other woman she isn’t, of him, of you. – Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa, p. 260
Lips, bitten, blossom forth
They ache to explore
That dark and dew-sweet place
Where tongues – like vines – embrace.
The stirring swell of waves
Which urge to break between her thighs
Come to crest,– collapse in salt-edged tides.
My eyes are clouded with the dew
In the chronic ache of unfilled space
Your matter’s much-missed;
An empty outline sore to trace
And sadder to kiss.
I try to plug the void with papers thick with plastic verse,–
Learning by the letter the sheer solace-lack of words.