The green texas morning, April 1st, nodding boughs, ochre nests of easy sunlight unfold this slow-breathing middle-aged neighborhood. Thick, many-colored dark clothes hang on my pallid peach body, as it hangs in the lukewarm, prickly airspace between wood, rocks, plaster and paint.
Then, after many bloods flood my face tissue, now it is 10:25 at night, and darkness seeps out of all the matter of my perceivable universe. [She] grew across the Earth and Sky, and I blew my whispering thoughts through a fiber optic cable, and She sealed the gate of her eye-souls.
Our skeletal muscles come loose. We pillow each other, as newly freed cloud animals, reunited, untied and resolving our ubiquitous connection, as old babies absorbing and emitting the big Light ... Hers, a slick black where endless emerald tendrils glow throughout ... and mine, a marrow-cream where dancing ruby critters erupt and rejoice . . . .
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