PrettyPoniesAllSweptInARow

know this thing (or) some wild wish

I want to meet you again – after the dark and wild storm of your escaping has loose and misted – sought a new rebellion in drift to light and molecule: dew settled on frosty Norske windowsill, boned underbelly of Eastern Bongo horn, long eyelash blinked over blue Valley sea, silver of hair, fingertip – after the demons have had their fill, tinkered stupidly on, all blind and giddy from their feasting– after your great great walls have cracked and tumbled – all shock and stagger - borne themselves bravely into bright white sand-shore-terra – settled their bodies down between your toes – all glow and reborn again– bared the vast vast sky - LOOK UP!! - brilliant with twinkle twinkle star-scapes – lazy day-pillow-imaginations to dream on.

I want to meet you again - after you have slept your big sleep – died your big death- stretch and splintered your cage into a million steely shatters hunkering pale and plaintive at your feet. I want to wield mightily that great shit-brush – broom fiercely away the mess of fear and self-loathing which so thoughtlessly, so brutally, so needlessly, imprisoned you – heft that shit down to the local crap-dump where it might dissipate and become born again: sun-loved seed-womb, pink rose, gold vein of carrot, shade of willow, wing, whatever, life – before wrapping you in arms and words and cool breath singing welcome, welcome, welcome.

I want to meet you again – after the topography of your heart – scarred and scarred and scarred again - has smoothed and softened – after your earth thumps strong and rhythmic – open, open, open – after your have become the yielding thing – dance and swaying. After.

My dear – my dear – my dear - they say there are two sides to every story. Where will this new unfolding carry me? Carry you? Will we meet upon pale French shores stretched and ceaseless, cool? Or the gold plains of East Africa, her wildness howl and surging under night? Perhaps it will be here, beneath the grand monoliths of light and industry – where hope comes to live - unfurl into unexpected manifestations?

Where we will say Hei, hyggelig å møte deg. Mitt navn er…..

gnaw: gnaw bone and skin and wild white heat : blued leaves: tear at the terror of the thing: no, we are not so very different.

you’re beautiful

sit and listen: you are beautiful

speak to me.

i say “no”

http://www.myspace.com/mounteerieorthemicrophones/music/songs/i-say-no-42287738

you?

loves.