full

some cryptic and moody poetry for your monday night…enjoy!

i want your blue jeans to color me vulnerable in a vibrating shade of grand horoscopic permeance, or the “degree to which a material admits a flow of matter or energy.”

in other words, i’m fabric stretched taut on a tumbling clothesline so give me your energy please.

i like to watch the edges of you flicker in and out of frame like the lick of a flame til the tipping point comes crashing down around our penciled in outlines.

all the while the ethereal chest of life breathing up and down to draw stories on our hands in brush strokes that are neither thick oil paint streaks nor bleeding watercolor

but somewhere in between.

and it is in that brief juncture i realize the search for clarity is beautifully futile i want answers from myself and from others but mostly from myself

i don’t have them.

all i know is these fate-seeming moments as they suffuse my tongue and travel to those special places in my brain are what i mean when i think be present. the floating on the green and messy hair and all the quiet in betweens. i’d been so busy looking at the glass trying to decide, half full or half empty, i’d forgotten to take a drink.