connexion: dea

21 Jul

————-

connexion: dea

 

wandering through dreams

like Sylvia Welter in a vault

I found her

my dea

hopeless

for her a hapless, limbed and lithe idea

a shade of the liliaceae through the window of my writing space

a drink, dark skin, a fit of frenzy

unprinted pages

she calmed me after years of mourning

a novella stolen by a drunken uptown 6 train

coming home to someone separate and new

it was my second draft

maybe even my third

if you consider our time in Spain

my dea

how do I begin again?

 

wandering through dreams

like trauma in red lipstick

she found me

my dea

a well-informed voice

from the lungs then to the neck

and it strains

and then there’s music

clicking along the sound

it lifts the room like tenderness

soft fingers as extensions of wet eyes

she touched my arm

and I too became diapason

and rested on her lips

this trip becomes a journey through the night

so rough, so callous, full of sonnets as streetcorners

a trip that no one should take alone

although two lives lived synchronously

in concert

can stoke the dead man’s heart

with enough ritornelle to burn the air and cause a waking

 

my dea, oh my dea

always

wandering through dreams

 

dedicated with gratitude to the beautiful women who’ve stimulated my creativity simply by stumbling through my daily hallucination: one recently blonde, one stately mad and missing, one a lovely host of words and music

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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