(no subject)
i bleed out of the bounds of my body. i am a quivering, fluid thing. i find oneness in both air and exhaust, greenery and grit. some days i am all eyes. some days i am the sound of leaves. today i am the collective memory of six hundred and fifty muscles.
how is it that summer berries bring with them all of life's vitality? how is it that in one bite of a ripe red pear there is compounded every good thing? it is because my tongue has ancient wisdom. it is because the pear is my primordial lover, belonging to my mouth forever, responding to the desire embedded in the ancestry of its seed.
a cry in my throat: we are here. we live. we follow the heartbreakingly beautiful patterns. we kiss and confuse. we crumble. we create. we are roused each morning to a world in which we are privileged to participate.
how is it that summer berries bring with them all of life's vitality? how is it that in one bite of a ripe red pear there is compounded every good thing? it is because my tongue has ancient wisdom. it is because the pear is my primordial lover, belonging to my mouth forever, responding to the desire embedded in the ancestry of its seed.
a cry in my throat: we are here. we live. we follow the heartbreakingly beautiful patterns. we kiss and confuse. we crumble. we create. we are roused each morning to a world in which we are privileged to participate.