#nondisclosures

Bataille wants me to kill it I think, or knows that it must die Shrinking heads, receding and I have to choose I think Between Generals X and Y This is what comes of “empty”

My gaping mouth though, Opens for a camera, needs investigating this. Don’t you think?

At the heart of it is a shifting unformed thing, grows and stalls and eats itself, Empty at the heart of things

They said it is too full, needs less, needs less Meditate:

My eyes, my breath become eyes and breath become seeing and breathing become other

I speak in circles; I am all falsehood; I am false

Somewhere between yesterday and fluttering eyelids you were the warmth on my back surrounding me whole, I could not see you and I was only hands facing an open window (I could not see myself)

You were the warmth on my back, the comforting weight of you familiar Familiar?

The invisible weight, sun yielding Sun restrained, restrained You were sun

The realness of you pressing soft enough to bruise the moment eyelids fluttered open

Real enough to bruise the thing that must recede, real enough

But I was empty before, wasn’t I, and what is a heart but undefined anyway?

You were warm though, beautiful and borderless and pressing before half-light unseen

Wild Angelica lately to bathe,  it is unfamiliar on my skin and maybe  will save me for a better Adam,  the last three put nose to skin and grinned baring predator teeth, 

Pure they said-  That’s when their eyes narrowed, (they always narrow while I slip beneath). It is either loss or forfeit, when they inhale. They want the smell of a woman Heady with broken backs, Not one to mend them.

They want one to bend them. Wild Angelica then to throw them, Wild Angelica to hide the trail That leads straight to strong hands and steady; This is my disguise masking my skin with new botany,

hiding behind  Old alchemy, a dusky scent. Maybe the girl in the garden will save me this time  from Adam.

5.

This is what comes of being so amorphous of not being a solid thing crafted to be ‘here’ in only one place

of having properties that bend light and also cause the flow, that also flow, this is what comes of being without form;

my being is two parts water one part light

Tell me how you came to be a solid, how do you keep such tight rein on your frequencies (how do you keep so still?)

4. I carry the younger me inside as if she were my firstborn and this future I’m crafting? Is for her. I build the world for her.

3. It’s the nature of fascia. It’s science. But I think of how it covers us just beneath skin, a white caul, a living shroud but it is very much alive. And you can feel it, right underneath fingertips.

2. My excuse for this is he is an earth sign and I am water but this is not an excuse This is not excused And so what if it could? Would I rewrite the scene, destroy the pen that makes me weak?

On the day that you moved entirely and too easily away cloud cover was low ahead and shadows flitted over sparse earth making green deep like forests deep and the clouds were low wisps (one cloud particularly) floating dancelike vapors moved by the urging of sun (some call it wind)

You had a body once that could be touched with even calloused hands and rough no need for feathers enough for the rough and grab to claim hills in rolling hips

You had a certain grace about you and even now through squinting eyes your moves devastate gently in degrees when that last bottle catches your reflection

This is a transmission (in which I apologise because too many train journeys leave me feeling inbetween and I am still waiting for you to appear) 

The days are growing half-beats shorter still and if you ask me anything i will tell you everything and all my secrets even though your nameis not Colin and you only asked me for directions to a pub on Edge Lane

I am too old for this and they keep telling me i should grow up and stop trying to find a friend that looks at the universe from the same vantage point so we can lay naked and talk about more than just bills and a side dish of creamed leeks they say that life is there but I don’t know it but they know and everybody knows I should have married the second one to ask and been growing ripe with babies since I should be more than cartilage by now, your bones have had time to calcify they remind me

They shouldn’t break this way but I still get greenstick fractures because i’m made of birch and heavy snows bend me into strange patterns to play eerie puppet shows when the shadows fall just right and so this is an apology whether warranted or not because my cheeks stay red lately from shame even in the rain and it rains often now

I should tell you it is bad news if i fall asleep in the half-light and dream of kind strangers tattooed or otherwise because that is heavy snowfall while I am drunk on darkness but i really like how your eyes frame things that I wouldn’t see otherwise and your bookshelf must be a kingdom worth exploring, that is my apology because I am nonsensical over a bird that I read about first years ago but never heard sing and what of it if i already miss you this much? It always comes back to some distant future in my imaginings and those numbers make for impossible equations