come around

Sometimes I wish the moon would’ve asked me before taking up so much of my mind. Sometimes when I’m waiting for an invitation I get invited the wrong way. Everything is down to the resolution of the details and the limits of the operation. Mostly I’ve been too busy wishing not to wake to get more than a gist of this business of being, other than the 24 hour neural bus tour around the bodily aches and all their mysteries. Here at the heart’s stubborn drumming the fount of all this troublesome dissolution is this distance between who I think I am and who I am. So I cast a shadow, so I covet the attentions of the moon? Even standing perfectly still is a long, long way to go. A lot is geography, the rest is character arc.

I suppose at least it’s proof of life, these lashings of the everyday, this leaning on the horn. Got born and kept hanging around, taking it day by day in doses of months and years. I ran out of roads in several directions at once, my candles all burned out. It’s as much the isolation as the time served Sisyphean, the same old bolder while the world just goes on. Some souls torn from me, some that just walked quietly away. The choice between this sullen spark or the thought of posterity, the habitual frippery giving way to phenomena and a familiarity with death rattles. This wind rushing in, to intimate, too familiar. The way I wish you would come at me, when I wish you would come around.

I don’t know how long I will linger here, sitting on the porch, fiddling with transmissions. I doubt I will out wait the moon as it wanes into third shift, always an ambivalent mix of blessings and spells, the secrets and hungers the goddess imparts. The flesh remembers its aspects, the magic and the all in grins. The smoke only hopes to jiggle the levels a little, taking the offered vacancy on the wind. I curse the day and mourn its departure. This enchantment still burns down to my bones. It feels like violence, it feels like breaking. The way it takes its time with my turn, knowing it’s over as soon as it’s said. It feels like I’m supposed to say it anyway.