The rain finally fell; I missed it.
An unpacked wound left agape, to breathe in awe, and slowly heal.
A little thing festered, so I had them cut it out.
And, sometimes, I like him enough to fear he could wreck me by letting me see myself as he sees me.
A foundation. A dream of a house of cards.
The foundation will fall before you and you will then become a dream to someone else.
A sweet one and a night-mare.
Bed bugs and freshly laundered sheets.
The keel remains, but no one is at the rudder.
Those secret chiefs are here. Sometimes, I think they come to me for a laugh. They know I know; they know you know it’s going to be okay.
You are welcome, but don’t tease; because, the words are over flowing. Bubble and bursting.
⊙
Cassandra’s Cavern closes, that spot above the fourth rib.
Cicatriz of a wildling.
Whispers in my ears.
Strings of random words.
Panoramas streaming alien multitudes of locales.
I hold still.
I try to listen and see.
It fleets and my mind yells, “Stop suffering.”
“I didn’t think I was,” my non-mind replies.
⊙
I dream of a day spent by a lighthouse. Watching seals. We return home.
“Good. Your skin still takes the sun,” he says, brushing my cheekbone with his finger.
My eyes go hard into his. I feel strange. I wonder are you some sort of vampire, pale one? It’s okay. I prefer a vamp to a peacock.
⊙
Suspense and suspension; the endearment of a man in suspenders.
A giggle hushed by louder laughter in the dark issuing forth from a little one with the lecherous eye.
We recently swapped places as easily as we used to swap clothes.
A white cotton bralette with no underwire.
A wood chipper left running, unattended.
A burger joint that grinds its own meat.
The sharpening of my axe.
Split nails and feet like cloven hooves. Shesatyr running.
⊙
And, my fingers begin to invent strange signals through the bending and overlap of digits as a dog pushes its snout into the corner, trying to become invisible. I watch while I act like I don’t notice.
A divine spark. The yetzirah. Multiple bodies operating on multiple planes.
Want births intent. Breaking of want produces freedom of will. The ability to intend.
⊙
I lost myself at sea a few days ago; let me know if you spot me.
I’ve a hole in my side and there’s a hole in the world where all the people used to go.
There’s a hole in Sam Stone’s arm and there’s an Angel who still flies from Montgomery.
Click-click-click goes the capped end of my Bic, against my thumbnail.
⊙
A familiar territory. A region you know well enough by cartography. Declension and longitude; elevation and latitude.
You must act without awareness at times.
WrittenCasey 