The Terrain that Fills the Lines

Allusive mappings: the ambiguous

topography of tender

unrequited touch.  This is

where the mind shows you

desire for skin, the steaming scent.  How sensing

skin on skin can mute the mass

of noise in the mind.  Everything then can

become a singularity, and the gravity of

sensation engulfing.  The tips of tongues

become excavators of the anabatic angels

of experience.  Then all that was before will

be changed by Eluviation.

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Something About the Fig Tree Elegy

for George

He told her how only for a few, like her,

rise so strongly, hurtling ahead of their own

gesturing faces, how they charge like a stampede

of wild horses through the worlds concealed by

the disguise of a smile.  And, yes, even the withering

smile of long worn faces. Life is the dawn

of something greater, something more important

because it remains.  All at once

a dark note, some ditty from worlds away, gallops

through her.  She understands that thing

he isn’t telling her because it’s hidden

between the words.

(Originally published 1/22/2013)