(no subject)
wires and wires and a thousand miles, like water over rocks or your voice on the line. to be fully awake at midnight, to be old and seventeen or like knives sharpening against each other and palm trees bending in the wind like we bend towards each other, to be unwilling but easy, to set things in motion, tread a million tangents with one word, fit years into a shoebox or a lifetime in an album, it's simple to think of limiting and stretching-- stretching, twisting like arching bridges across distances and words you never meant, aching spinal cords and backbones pulled back to fit the shapes of different furniture, different bodies. fingers knotted together like old tree trunks like that childhood in the back of your closet under the bed, like old skeletons and run on sentences and mystery novels. i think mostly we have empty spaces punctuated by periods of importance, capital times. after being captive so long, in the jaws of life it feels like death or something like waking, the single moment before you hit consciousness with a gasping bang, while your mind is still behind the wheel asleep-- the suspension in time before the water hits, the windshield cracks, your breath escapes.