I Will Go
The HVAC system is shuddering and weeping, the climate is deteriorating, people are moving from place to place out of need and greed both. It cannot be made whole at the same time as it cannot be parted from itself, this world. It’s almost funny, but we’re better off not laughing. I will go. I will go on a small pilgrimage in the spring air. I will go to see the paintings of snow coming out of a night sky. I will go to see the sharp white flakes and the blurred ones. May the night sky come close to me. May I stand there at the edge of the water and feel the snow accumulating on my garments.
A Future
I remember the time when everyone had pubic hair and the simple beauty and promise of those dark triangles. We went outside, under the trees, in the dappled sun, and stripped down just to admire each other. Come a little closer. We thought this was freedom and we thought we were making a future. Touch me. Hand between my breasts. Hand on the small of the back. Mouth against my ear. Breath on my neck. Your knee against my knee. This was the promise we gave ourselves. Whatever we thought it meant, it wasn’t what it actually meant.
Into The Waters
As if this were a drug you’ve just taken, as if this were a prophecy, as if this were a canvas, the canvas of a sail, a veil, a veiling, a re-veiling, a reveal, What are we opening to revelation if not ourselves. Oursails, ourveils. Our marvels and marveling. Where had it gone, all that astonishment? We look down into the waters and everything is in constant motion, one thing turning into another, the boundaries playful and impossible. We need something wooden to act as the hull. By this I mean something literal, something that seems to persist in its form. Hull of a boat, hull of a seed. See, sea, seaward is the lull.
