Cover art by @elle.glasse
When it begins to burn my lips something happens and something splits. A man walks the street alone. Dark heat is everywhere. He pulls on his helmet and mounts his motorcycle. Something starts.
There are birds still singing at 11 pm. There are lights on in all the little houses calling to…
Cars alive pass blaring bass and my little porch seems so small in all this movement.
I speak to the trees most nights if the moon cannot show her face. Their hands curl in upon themselves. Their eyes shine iridescent. They call too.
I drew a circle round the house, teakettle ringing.
I drew a circle round the house. Salt and clove and cinnamon.
All I want is everything. Don't you know?
All I want is the punch of inspiration against my gut. Limitation is a cane, break it
against my knee.
My hands burning in the dark heat, the smell
of rubbing alcohol, cold and
clean me out, wring me dry so I can dream of the oasis.
Split and rupture so i can crave this wholeness. Don't you know about it already? You will not understand, but you could know. This fire burns around us. Calling us to action, calling us to peace, breaking us to pieces. I can only write what I can see.
The way we move through space tells us what we want, it cannot tell us what we need. Upr
ooted like the light up on that lamp post, I am calling. Don't you know
you can only listen if you try,
you can only fall if you jump,
you can only whisper the color purple in this thunderstorm.
We build things. We sew together structures, sew seeds so the roots can grow together. Are you listening? I am calling. Where do you come from and how do you live? Who do you love? What languages do you speak? I grew a garden across the ocean. Somewhere it is being watered without me.
Don't you know you're building things too?
A foundation can be strong without a landlord. A phone call can carry more than voices.
Oh carrymecarryme and I will hold you like you are.
Like something matters
like something’s starting and something’s ending. I will forget the void of in between.
It is not here it does not rule me. Moving moving singing cars moving moving in my body in my breath. This is not an enclosure. This is not closure. I am everywhere. I am with you in the dark heat and the stingning downpours. There are birds still chirping at 11 pm. Cicada sounds too. Don’t you know? Can't you hear them? Aren't you listening?
