surplus

The burly little wordsmith creases the edges between meaning and meant. Yes, it is that past-- the recollection of magic spells that lead to kisses, the notion that everything was going all right. The one where he would speak some little phrase awakening the Princess you hide, curing you of that burden of never saying no. The one where there were sheet sets and set sheets to catch the eye, paralyze that lying tongue. His blunt craft preserves this, that flavor of revelation, that agreement being met. Perceivable shift in the very measure of how much you could possibly matter.

There is a greed that sets in when the world is tangled in thoughts. A realization that the realizing is often enough. The joy of nirvana a surprisingly inaccurate description. When the vain god of what if accepts that belief is reason enough, when it turns the lamentations of fact into the afterglow of revelation, when it rubs the greasy ashes finger to forehead leaving that sacred smudge, all the chance for abandonment has passed. The endless dappled starlight of want and want more, freed of the burden of location. Simply to know that there is enough, in the lean and flow of these words set upon the wind. Somehow to find his grip threaded through your breath, every certainty confined in this ritual of telling.

There lie your letters of passion, the fervid description, the wishful flush of rhetoric. Scuffed and folded, blurred and blunted at the best sections, read and re-read in a heady spill. The tumble of image, from caress to kiss to consummation. The very nation of your flesh and senses spelled out in careless drought and deluge. From these staggered words you find yourself lit with another spirit. Sliding into the confines of a loosed soul, you sparkle and shine. The seduction a simple question, an asking of you to become your own true self. No mirror, no smile, no whisper. Just this heat abruptly at your finger tips, a surplus of passion at last unbound from the cage of explanation. At last at home, here in your native tongue, unfettered and free to toil.