|
| |
Time Out of Time
Gone
lit-up-light-of-
nothing peculiar
we-you-and this
sewing tight the nebulous.
Salted tongues of silence,
pillow-sex for the nearly departed.
Adjust body-images,
fill cupped hands with
day and nightly needs.
Arms shrouded in animal skins,
see the bones
of long gnawed desires?
Rhythms, be thee in-sync,
REM cycles of desire
be thee loosely hitched
to mutuality.
Grind not - just yet.
Making it, doing it
feeling your it-ness,
our conjoined selfsameness.
The mind has invisible mountains.
let us jump,
just I
and that familiarity
of a former you,
go leap,
both riding shotgun,
with flammable
double-barreled begetting’s.
We do,
we slip in and out of empty shells
smudged by the powder burns
of spent emotions.
We-are-this-long gone togetherness,
meeting again
in an overdue daydream
embedded within a night-ride,
exposed way behind the optics,
playing the black keys
on high tide crests,
tunnel visions narrowing
to ne-plus-ultra disclosures.
We the cross-hearts,
cross-stitching reality,
time out of time,
yet again.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
|
|