repartee

Then just like that it turns a corner, another month of mystery seasons, the sky a flood of late day blues with the moon already afloat. Inhale an avalanche of smoke, cough a trail of constellations on the screen, watch the words as the occur. The strange symbols somehow always speaking, a voice that is ever ready behind your mind. The sizzle of your swift inference running lines through all the rigmarole, the windows opened the doors closed, tooth and tongue and the taste of your breath. The things all swaying from the way you say it. The words all running downhill.

Your whole life you’re on the hook, dragged by your stubborn bones through this tide of time and flesh, fighting the line ever after. All ache and struggle and songs and fires in the night. The repartee of sea and sky, the shimmer of being in everything you see.  Maybe you fight the good fight, maybe you just fight good, you fight even after you’re all fought out. It’s yours and it’s universal, a drop in the bucket, a drop in the unreckoned depths. Your story running adventure to adventure, the telling living check to check. All we have are short term solutions.

The jostling of the wind, the persuasion of the smoke, the gaze of the striptease moon. The trees speak the skies recitations, the long rush of the great falling, the spilling down through the atmosphere in boasts and spells. The moment takes shape and unbecomes, the known never staying long. This place where the marrow boils over, this place of salt and rust and glistening skins. This name all eyes and hands, the words always on the clock. Close your eyes as the breeze visits. Breathe in whatever you witness, breathe out another stitch in the sky.