unfurled

The day weighs down upon the body, the stretch from stone to star. The time hones the old bones, brittle blade ever sharper, waning to want and direction. The wind dives and soars, the night advances spilling from the half shell sky, brushing up against the flesh whispering intimate wishes and prophecies of your imminent death. The eyes sigh as the light gives way, shadows both bug and feature as the evening lets its flag fly loose. It unfurls, all stars and planets and maybe a moon or two. I sit and smolder, and generally try to stay out of the way.

Mostly I stick to the script. Mostly because I’m writing it as I read the lines. I’m saying we’re sailing in the same boat, close to the cursor and drifting out to sea. Eyes wide as the lights come on, the mind a figment of time bunching up around the abrupt and obdurate, the arc of feedback the fuzz around the features. The melody the blowback of this insistent diving into the present tension. The instrument and the animal take their virtuoso turns, and the entity arrives. Mostly mouth and doesn’t mind, I follow the tide I provide. 

It’s in the way the world washes through me. It’s in the way smoke wanders away. We bleed away into the vastness of the firmament, we dissolve into dirt as we turn back into the earth. Eyes open as it all goes away, spin after spin, tumbling dice and dust to dust. I’ve spun out to the edges, every day a little further from, every day a new never. I am drained, I have dwindled, the words gone from take to ache. I am all smoke and smudge, gathering wool and spinning threads. All the light burned away, only the glow of this smolder and sputter as I gutter in the naked night. Only this altar of want and falter, clinging to these words that never were.