into silent,
spiritual physics—the mind as it desires, in sweetness the touch, to have
rushed into atmosphere. the totem of the being, the pride of the legacy, too
much soul for the faint of heart. i was skeptical of interaction. it takes a
determined soul to maintain the same perspective of a person—on and on and on.
if accomplished, it shows a resistance to science and its methods. when new
material materializes, knowledge must be adjusted, else, we stand to assail ourselves,
to diminish credibility, while disregarding the progress minds have made—in this
larger endeavor to overthrow oligarchy. (and her raspy voice, her way with
trying, her demand on the human intensity): sweet black oak, sunrise cherries,
nectar worn apricots; to live and dine, to die and become, as life would
intend. many logistics, the New Kingdom, as here and there and why not
elsewhere? to merge inside like flying hand in hand, some deliberate adventure,
the sky pouring into her chest-cave. so much a need to unbuckle, to rummage
beneath the soil, to get mud into our nail beds, even to become too clean to
look back. the sundown martini—the morning tea, the soul so bright—a woman with
child. and i’ll say it first, nothing was said—but we touched on a few topics.
