Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Serendipity





We are each other’s syndrome,
midnight snacks,
an expression caught unawares
(a twitch in the jaw/ that guffaw!)

familiar as the mole on my arm,
stranger than the odd Amazon fish
you dreamt of one fever ago,

We are, of each other,
impromptu photographs
older than comets,
than zygotes
than air.

you were that crossroad on a winter night
the face springing up on patchy, wet walls
the leaf that bedazzled the breeze
made a fleck of daybreak dance
that changed the course of a certain destiny
you are my disorder
the laugh in my head
the lump in my throat
the lurch in my stomach
music under my skin
(You!)

We are dust motes winking, twinning
in an astounding speckle of light.
We pull apart earth’s skin,
invent secrets to fill
our drunken mouths,
we are each other’s discoveries,
culmination of all permutations and intuitions
from the first cell
the primordial breath
until this moment
we are a life time lived
theintersection
on that starry graph
all the glasses we didn’t break
all the mirrors that never saw us
wemust be fate’s whimsy
we are each other’s schizophrenia
I draw a cloud on you and we drift up
you turn into a well and I brim
we are books we meant to read
(or write or wished to tear apart)
review, criticize, or keep under the pillow

You sum up what I have split into
an uncomprehending equation
We are the otherness in each other
mere configurations
created, filament by filament
a blend of  all that comprises
this chaos
we are chaos
we are-
we.
lets empty ourselves, lets dangle our feet
lets sit there, at the edge of this incredible lustre
lets do nothing !
but watch this story take roots.


Picture: Us. 

.


My head is an unremittingly dripping tap
a bag full of sea, a beckoning nitrogen can,
Darkness has endless maddening shades
(take a lick, it tastes like dust)
a landscape of needles that will wrap around me
filling insides with white noise and nausea.



Just living here, looking at the sky filtering through the million dragon-fly wings, the pealing bark of the silver oaks...one soon grows beyond the flesh, becomes something porous, transparent, soaking up the stillness and expanding wisp by wisp into a dreamscape of greens, silver and blue.


Picture: View from my laughing window.