Verba Eclipsata

The ascent of a scent,

warm and humid like southern nights.

A recollection of something never had yet still known,

like the smell of a world existing prior to the industrial revolution.

Encoded in all minds, like a forgotten dream suddenly recalled.

“It’s curious how ‘illicit’ is used more than ‘licit.’ ”

“That’s not what I’ve come to discuss.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The livery stable holds a horse rode hard and put up wet.

From the projection of the rider’s own limbic system,

thereby was a scythe observed

being cleaned

off in a river of cortisol,

and, then, resheathed into the odd, wrappings

made of hide.

The harmony of the discord between a

sympathetic

And

parasympathetic

nervous system that is only given rest through

relentless fight or flight.

The capture and surrender of two individual, respective attentions.

Things contained and separated by encasings of skin.

Verba Eclipsata Intende A Dinspir.

Assertive Ask[d]ance

Your enervated state is the reason why I request your prostration.

I do not require it; but,

I wilt accept it from you.

Until you understand this, I can neither refill nor refine you.

Your acquiescence does not appease me; but rather[,]

(It may prove to please me)

enables you.

Do not give me attitude simply because

your lassitude overcomes you, wild thing.

I know how to respond; but,

do you know how to af-

firm that you need a demon cleaner?

A strike of a light stroke

Before photons,

ours was

the luminiferous ether, the medium through which light moves.

falling like waves

Issuing ever out in concentric circles

(within concentric circles)

《[Ego centrism

Of gEo centrists.

A vessel never falls off the horizon.

Our sight line drops off; and

the feet of another appear to

grow smaller (and smaller)

as s/he walks away from you.》

But, there was no motion detected.

A wave and a particle,

both either, as well as neither,

hidden ether.

Rods and shafts of sunlight.

The handmade amatory ambit.

The amatory ambit which I occupy indicates, to the ears of my heart, that

I am the succulent strumpet sometimes called succubus; and it is I to whom you succum/b. My scribbl/es are ascribed to Scribes, all of whom scrieve, for example, scriveners, a penman, and amanuensis.

~\~~\\~\\\\

Just scratching lead to papyrus.



Ambit: (n) that which bounds; a boundary; also the sphere or scope; circumference.

Amatory: designed to excite love, sexual love specifically .

Succulent: the quality of being juicy and fleshy.!

Strumpet: a prostitute.

Succum: as under a burden, yield; to die.

Succumb: to sink down.

Scrieve: to glide swiftly along; Also, to reel off, as a story.

Succubus: a class of demon who has intercourse with humans while they sleep

Scribbl/es: to write or draw hastily or carelessly; to fill or cover something with careless or worthless writings or drawled envelope; a piece of writing or a drawing that is done quickly or carelessly

amanuensis: (n) one employed to write from dictation or to copy manuscript like a calligrapher, copyist, or scribe.

In Latin, the phrase servus a manu translates loosely as “slave with secretarial duties.” (The noun manu, meaning “hand,” gave us words such as manuscript, originally meaning a document written or typed by hand.

In the 17th century the second part of this phrase was borrowed into English to create amanuensis, a word for a person who is employed (willingly) to do the important but sometimes menial work of transcribing the words of another.

To Nick a Horse’s Tail? Parçigal writes

I it is,

writing to you as A’ licentious Alice, a chalice, from AL by way of LA origin-ally, with houndstooth donned:

It is the sense of loving the moment. It is remembering the sensation of meta/physical love and then remembering the sensation of how it feels to lose it. That ache. That sense of how many times will they wreck me?. How many times will I play the Fool?

Again and again.

Why lose the Fool of yourself? If I killed the Fool inside to be hip, where did the real me go? With whom do you share your inner fool? Can guarding it be anything authentic?

In this mp3 and streaming world, a mix CD burned,

a cassette tape made,

breaks my heart right open. Is that why we have one?

This is not sadness; it is a necessary devouring of self.

A Happy Death.

My existential orientation continuously regenerates as at the point of origin, and I can be painfully patient; but,

does your silence actually speak: you are only useful until used?

Bemused at the thought. At you. By you.

And, a comma can change the entire meaning of a sentence: I say.

I know your way.

I knew before you showed me.

You play semantics and fancy it is a game?

<>

Splayed pieces parsed in preparation of a preheating oven.

The intimacy of this is but the sense of mind behind it.

I understood that years ago. I learnt it in a dream.

Tonight, I feel my patience hotly boil, as though I must make it into impatience simply to show you my elasticity.

You say: I’ve been here before.

So? I’ve been here forever: I reply,

Curtly but with a curtsey.

Here, where the desire to conduct currents raises meta/physical energy in the nerve endings concealed under my skin.

What a waste to not make use of it.

I would waste that energy on you alone.

Waste it in the face of

your silence.

I will howl until you howl back, to punish you.

Does that spook you,

you ghost of the man of May?

Giggle-snarl.

I espied your inconsistency immediately since taking my flight of departure.

Curious.

It was my mistake. I should not have allowed you to let me leave. I thought I was being kind, but I was only being polite. Stay. That’s what I really meant to say or do this time.

I abide still. I stoke fires. I test the limit.

I care for you. That is all. I can unconditionally hold you(,) dear.

My love is not tethered to needing love.

My devotion is my loyalty to my beloved. You endeared yourself to me.

I desire you. Now you must suffer the cost of your own, odd charms.

It is no matter of ‘should’ you, but rather, ‘could’ you

tell me true?

If you could, I hold you(,) dear.

If you could not, I hold you(,) dear.

<>

There is heavy magic in your air and I am magnetized.

Some integral things reduce to simple vibrations, to sounds, to sounds like bays, being transmitted through our air.

I wrote all these words first

in longhand to show you how inane I can be.

How frighteningly unafraid

you could be,

should you so choose, ewe.

Or, perhaps, your hands are tied.

Perhaps you have no choice but to be so.

I learn the record of your timeframes

still.

Deliciously diabolical it seems: both your pleasure and your desperation.

Does it make you forget which side of the road on which you ought to be driving?

Were you just checking out your mojo?

Taking me for a ride in your fast car?

There. Am I impressed?

Hum.

Good question.

Can you answer this: if I told you that your heart belongs to me now, would you hold your head up high in the air?

Could you even if you wanted?

Could you even say if you didn’t?

The difference between ‘can’ and ‘may.’

Simon says he went birdwatching but only saw his own feet.

Not many birds to be seen in that scene?

Just grounded, flightless birds, you adorable dodo.

<>

I saw a porcupine ripping out its own quills,

one by one by one,

by one at a time.

Onlookers horrified at the sight of so much blood.

The porcupine stabs them while they are stunned into stillness by the reverie-stupor of their surprise.

Slaying ampersand slain.

I see your look of discomfort at this friction.

<>

There was a slight drizzle of rain

as I laid myself

down to sleep early this morning.

I imagined how lovely it would be to

put my hand about your pelvic flair.

The jut of your hipbone.

Cup it like an anchor to

hold me fast

in what dreams may come.

[☆]

The night sky was so poorly lit, that I could see

moths flying away from it.

Fleeing the lack of light is not the same as seeking a light.

I raise my lantern for you tonight.

If it is lit

it is done so through and not by me.

But, for you is for whom I raise it.

A beckoning through a beacon.

Here is your

sea shore.

Fall, like a wave, upon me.

Surrender your summer-self and embrace the autumnal ewe, you.

Water, no ice.

I seat you.

I put down

Menu/s.

Menues.

minutes of

minute

minuettes

A fun dance, perhaps,

Menuet?

<>

Your food arrives.

You chew and

Swallow it into your

hollow.

Hallow and also

a shallow wallow.

Low halls, and(,) walls.

<>

Allow

how many commas in the Oxford Comma?

Coma correction.

<>

Your indignity makes me indignant.

Indigestion is caused by digestion but not

by the undigestable.