Thursday, May 2, 2013

All But Untrackable

Rain coming.

No moon tomorrow on my morning walk.

Also phone calls, too many.

And dirt on my knees, after digging and burying, and half a dozen somersaults to make the ones who fear death smile.

To be worthy of the prayers of a fourteen-year-old!

Cannibalism in Jamestown . . .

I pay attention to what I resist and gently pursue it.

In you.

Sometimes when I look at pictures of your face a long time I remember what it feels like to cry when you let a thing go.

I step lightly around the idea of nakedness, all kinds.

One waits, patiently, confident now in all kinds of blossoms.

Imagine a glass of wine, a hotel window overlooking a city (possibly rainy), and how the resultant conversation would end.

Would it.

Why?

The delicate balance is best though difficult.

It is when I want to relate through the body - hold me, kiss me, suck me - that redemption clouds and becomes all but untrackable.

And yet.

One begins to sense the meaning of distance, the loveliness of giving, and - finally - the long-term plan in which we will not go without.

Who is named is in relationship, that's why.

So: yes: my love: yes.

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