listening to your hands

softness
sinking
face on floor
pressure
no pressure
listening
to your hands
how softly they
touch and follow
i follow
follow my breath
your hands
anchor me in space
somehow
flying
floating on this breath
now
stops
never to come back again
always changing
filling a body that is
mine but also
billowing like a giant
balloon made of
parachute sail
fine, light and ephemeral
i am a baby
learning to take steps
in my parachute body.

(unedited stream of consciousness writing, sept 2014, exercise with Bettina Neuhaus)

sing this place in between now

oh words,
words,

words.

soft rain, when fall beckons winter,  is cold

.dangerous.

wiping away all traces of blue, bringing it

down,
down

to earth.

from here we decay.
from here we are born.

sing this place
in between now

.sing.

how my heart

Shanda Studd

. how my heart crept in bed with me
this morning
in the black
in the cool
in the quiet
first, as always, the smell
rising from the heat
blood, down and flesh
then, touch, quivering and vital
tenacious to the pull
clenching and releasing
without divide
can one follow without fixing
hold without strangling
tracing fine bones and pulses
the narrowness of the ribs
feel the swell, the burst
without drowning
without drowning
eyes open, always mirroring
in dark pools
eyes shut
the moment has gone by
enough
like a butterfly, unsettled
it draws itself away.

View original post

quiet lake

(words found in an old agenda)

love soft and
gently rocking
like the membrane of
a quiet lake
mixed by unknown
scales
twisting mass of
muscles and fins
darting desires
pulsating guts
churning will
moves
caresses
carries
sustains
transference of
energies
passions
gently rocking
like the membrane
of a quiet love

overhead, the sky is grey

flick of a finger

i grasp his struggling body
heart racing
sinews twitching
writhing and pushing
to get away
a mirror image of his prey
the desperation to kill
equalling
the desperation to survive
i toss him in the house
and turn my attention to his quarry
a last push
urges its soft panting pulse
under the garage door
narrow squeeze
pathetic comedy of flattened thighs
tiny splayed feet
my heart pounds
in time with predator and prey
who am i
to decide life or death
left or right
like a tyrant who
with a flick of the finger
aims the eager edge
towards particular soft flesh
just because
i cannot bear the play of death
this morning

symbiomorphic journey

primary
sexual
metamorphic impulse

blazing through the body
melting ligaments and tissues
liquifying bones

annihilating bodily structures
toward one pulsating mass
a throbbing vibration
of expansion and contraction
an amoeba once called the self

no logic
no structure
no grid

flowing
amorphous
engaging in a pitiful
gargantuan
breathtaking struggle
to touch

not touch

collision
pressure
friction
distortion

blind
deaf
moaning its loss
helplessly vociferous
seeking
approaching
withdrawing

[like stars disappearing from the direct gaze]

a point that contains the universe
a hopeless and monumental struggle
from which restructuring arises

recoding

deep
hidden
a physical structure re-emerges

exhausted

blinking
hearing
swallowing
strange taste of residue
warmth and moisture

inhabits a new form

(24 june / 27 december 2013)

broken things

leaves wind train

re/collect

1. i forget you
every day. over and
over
and
over
again.

2. in that time forgotten
i am present
reckless
i snap pictures, shove them in my pockets
default names smeared across my screen. in.stance.

5. deleted memories
do not help me detach

6. begin, again
begin.

without
howling