09.28.06
Rolling green hills and valleys. Sweet like balls of cardomon bobbing in boiling water. Peaks rising - ATTENTION -- a stand off, with a third party skimming the surface, waiting. A third wheel but necessary.
I have no patience to read you today. All the hidden meanings and stale-mates. Poker faces. Me digging out of a lonely well, excavating. A cloud is cut out of the smooth sea. Cut out then lifting off up into the heavens. It’s mark: a thumbprint heavy but soothing.
21.09.06
Jupiter rings. Bubbling molten red, brown gurgling pool of something full and open. A pebble the size of Albuquerque glugs down too the bottom of the well and pushes up all the silt and murk and stars shimmering below these perfect circles horizon. Each bubble asks why and bursts constellation. Blub blub blub scratch the surface glass. Thick brown red sediment rains. And the rings stack one top other methodic. Threads pull seamless hem. And far above, porcelain white welcome.
17.09.06
we roll softly in a quilt of spongy moss. A hillock oozing green and hazy. We run par hazard without a map along ridges a deertrack here, a broken branch there. We zigzag lush and find our way to the top. Look out to another hill, head and shoulders above this one, but flat somehow from our tiptop spot almost in the clouds. We chase our shadows down the puffy hills like sun sets and risings.
16.09.06
the branches of a tree in the distance hovering grand bear fruit. Small buds craving light and air. and water from roots dripping up up up to the tips of las ramas esperando.
And I left you so long moss covers your shoulders. A heavy weight to bear. You like a bull, like oxen continue to sow seeds, plow the field. And I galavant. That’s what you say with your head down staring at the thick earth. Where have you been, your neck twists back and forth slowly -- shake, shake, shake. If you had fingers not hooves they would wag or point, accusatory and sorrowful. But you have better things to do, more work to do, no time to worry about my escapades below the earth in the netherland in the depths of the sea. Me searching for something always. Reading the ebbs of foamy sea water tracing symphonies on white glistening sandy shores.
Beneath the waters I see myself on a horse, arm raised, a helmet crowning my growing locks. My horse and I stand looking calmly and directly up beyond the surface of the deep blue sea. Birds linger on coral reef, whispering songs to us. We repeat them cautiously at first then begin to bellow. Our song rises to reach you. Ballooning, billowing, blushing.
Listen for it. It will greet you. The notes clamor and run to you, leaving breadcrumbs along the path to find its way back to my throat, expectant. A path for the next notes to follow. A path to you headstrong and longing.
Listen. Y chica, mija, habibti, por fa -- sigiendola.
12.09.06
We are so far from home. Even bread crumbs will not lead us back.
11.09.06
we are in a cloud. We swim thru a forest of coral. We see creatures jumping up, rising in the deep blue. Gurgle gurgle. There is an opening there above them, narrow but beckoning. The ocean floor sways and rocks. We can’t turn back now.
10.09.01
Have you missed me.
This could be a question I would ask you. But I know better. You have a lot going on and as far as I know, we have an understanding. You know I’m here. Don’t you. I’m right here.
Silences between us don’t mean anything huge. Just a pause. Time to breathe. Your lungs filling and emptying, mine, staggered, rumbling.
01.09.06
you dance + lead effortlessly on top of a spout/fountain of water climbing like a sunburst out of a range of coral reef. Across the way sits enthroned riding a wide chariot -- he walks forward, crowned -- its a float balloons + kites rising behind him on a thick anthill sits a man arms around knees taking it all in. his pal huddles by his shoulder whispering. Both wear thick heavy headdresses that gallop in the breeze threatening to jog away upwards -- then down their backs wild + kicking. They look out past what we can see. Measuring the wind + our distance from the sun. below a glassy pool reflects and gives shape to our panoramic world. Filigree sputters out from heavy silhouette.
