Thursday, October 15, 2009

To 1.

It’s not that I don’t love you

It’s that I am pointed in a direction

It’s not that you don’t inspire me or make me laugh

It’s that I am distracted by the scent of

It’s not that we are not close

To 2.

I do, the world cannot be saved by a single bee and a single bloom

No self-determination in magnets, fate alone

I laugh all the time

Hair, humid urgency, the sensation of being taken away as I am being held

Breaking things open,

Concentration to a point calamitous

My heart drawn out as through the eye of a needle

The ecstasy of the process of hollowing

Then a shell filled with scented air

The curdle of your breath

All your unpleasantries delicacies

I will push out what must be freed from you

Push in what must be from me

We are not mortar and stone. We are two stones.

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