I feel it… synesthestetically overwhelming. Spice and heat and bracelets clinking on the delicate wrists of a woman. Hot pavement, bare feet stepping fast in the sun through a crowded noisy bazaar. A sweet enticing oriental temptation to craziness. A rhythm that flows like Ravel’s bolero. Haunting sounds of drums as someone’s gasping for air…more and more and more. Unexpectedly it triggered to my mind the image of your red and shining blue kimono. How you smoothly let it fall down your arms. And that finger pressed to your red lips…shhhhhh. It’s the drum effect I guess. Those shamanic-like rhythms that interfere and overlap bouncing me back and forth into the geometry of sounds. The sounds of picked chords blended into the hiss of a sword… melding into a short and intense slow-motion focus of your fingers touching a hand… delicately unbearably tender.Thursday, February 23, 2012
caress
I feel it… synesthestetically overwhelming. Spice and heat and bracelets clinking on the delicate wrists of a woman. Hot pavement, bare feet stepping fast in the sun through a crowded noisy bazaar. A sweet enticing oriental temptation to craziness. A rhythm that flows like Ravel’s bolero. Haunting sounds of drums as someone’s gasping for air…more and more and more. Unexpectedly it triggered to my mind the image of your red and shining blue kimono. How you smoothly let it fall down your arms. And that finger pressed to your red lips…shhhhhh. It’s the drum effect I guess. Those shamanic-like rhythms that interfere and overlap bouncing me back and forth into the geometry of sounds. The sounds of picked chords blended into the hiss of a sword… melding into a short and intense slow-motion focus of your fingers touching a hand… delicately unbearably tender.
sliding blue
Sometimes I’m there on the seashore. Sliding from one consciousness to another. Which part am I on? And so I recalled the smell of your hair, felt its touch on my face, the sound of waves, the curve of your shoulder leaning onto mine and line of knees, the sand and the sun veiled into the light bluish breeze. You dream almost every night… yeah almost. Sometimes I don’t remember. Sometimes I don’t dream at all. I may have been tired of running off the surface of reality and I just rested somewhere. I don’t know exactly where.I feel the sand under my feet and the music playing in my ears. Sounds are guiding me. I widely spread my arms and take a deep breath.
I’ll be waiting. So will the sea…
Original photo: http://thumbpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/sunset_011.jpg
Thursday, February 9, 2012
winter stories
There’s so much cold and winter in your posts, he said. Almost everything in there is cold, sharp, nearly motionless. An unconscious way of expressing how I feel, I thought. You are…two. Two different beings. We are. I am inhabiting her as much as she is inhabiting me…living both of us at the edge where our lives are inseparably interconnected. Antagonistic and irreconcilably different. I don’t know if it’s me or her humming. The more we meet, my heart feels as if… I just sensed the sounds coming out, chasing down the husky voice whispering in I don’t know exactly whose ears. There are no longer words, but simply music. And lips, redder than any winter before.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
