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 Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 4:10 pm
This is free form poetry, that stuff you are most likely to hear in one of those little dive places that has poetry readings for anyone who wants to get in front of the mic. There are no real pauses when this is read aloud...
now, without futher interruption.. Purple in Thought
Free floating, falling, wanting to feel like floating into nothing.
Falling into rhythm of sound, music pulsing, pounding, flowing in waves over me.
Red and purple cloth drifting in my mind, dragons scales of thought and time.
Water rippling over skin and feathers, wings extended touching, skin on skin, the feeling of love.
A kiss, sweet and sensual, lingering thoughts out of time.
No thought,
just feeling,
touch,
touch,
feel,
skin,
water,
wind,
caresssing,
moving,
flowing,
pusing,
pounding over me.
I feel like falling into something, not the abyss but something magical, something just out of my reach.
I want to feel dangerous.
I want to feel loved.
Feel wanted.
Feeling thoughts return, to purple, red and leather and vinyl and PVC.
Black velevet,
slick,
smooth,
fabic,
moving over skin, layers of makeup like actors getting ready to perform on a stage.
We prepare for a performance, dressing in outfits we have crafted from velvet and pvc and leather.
Leather, the color of night and wine, deep softness and shine and slick feathers of wings,
color,
pale and dark,
contrasting.
We move to rhythms onstage and sing and dance and play, moving onward, practicing the performance before the final result, thinking, wanting, wishing, playing.
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Posted: Wed Feb 14, 2007 7:39 pm
I like it a lot. it's done what I was waiting for in my inspirations for a while: changed the regality of the color purple into something more ambiguous.
In response,
Sunrise
He waved the dusk away with a maroon hand,
Blood circulation cut off with the string-residue of wind:
And, sleepily, he traded in the stars
For a drunken rise across the golden skies.
Who is it, this perpetual sun who lives
In secret canyons underneath the hills,
And leaves them every day in favor of
Some greater glory and companionship:
The Gods once traveled in his afternoon
To bless mankind and change the waxing moon
To gentle wane, its flame to mellow out—
But now, the moon is lit up by the sun
And nothing interferes: the once-divine,
The fallen deities in their caverns bare
Lay down their robes of silk for all to see,
And do not twist their necks to see the moon.
Who is it, this perpetual sun who turns
Some swollen circuit at the break of day
Around the turning earth, revolves but stays
Completely still, the center of it all?
The center, yes the center! We have found
The center of what we see in the skies!
It is that great Commander who allows
Us to receive the light when he floats up
Led by something unseen we do not know!
O Lord, my great creator waiting there:
Much wiser to exalt fail Helios dead
Than to sing praises only when we sleep.
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