Sunday, December 28, 2014

A Place for Your Kiss

Hunger and the idea of God emerge in the same body, somewhat simultaneously. A little rain dissuades no chickadees and moss does matter, a reminder for which I was most grateful. In my dreams - which are simply the same old narrative but in free fall - I kept leaning in to kiss you and you kept saying "this is the the last lesson in insistence." Desire gives birth to memory, memory to habit, and habit to a kind of blindness from which all conflict arises. I'm not ready to say yes to dead giraffes, okay? If you believe in God, work with God, and if you don't believe in God, do the work the people who believe in God believe God does. What are we really but monkeys pretending to be starlight? I've got a plan for your hands and a place for your kiss, love. The world loves a wordy lass which goes a long way to explaining my fluency in jealousy. What he should have said was, "thank you for sharing the apple and thank you too for a new way of seeing the garden." Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as outcomes, yet every breath is accounted for, every poem already written. Take me down slow in the light we collectively authored.

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