Monday, October 18, 2010


The time has come, the walrus said, for you and I to stay in bed... Starting over is never easy. It is just that. Starting over. Back turned with eyes wide open. A lot to be said. Enjoy the silence. Face forward everyone knows what a woman like that looks like. Everyone knows what's already been said. The song remains the same. Spiny fins might catch a glimpse of light in the flicker. Time. Time is flowing like a river to the sea. Time has run into the sunset and become the moon. Someone once hung the moon for me. And now, I now hang the pictures myself.  And just like the cool rays of the damp afternoon with it's agenda-less agenda I long to recapture those moments when my breast wasn't sliced into my breathlessness. Agenda-less agenda. Yes. I hang here suspended in time with captures of winter and words that run together like words often do. Words like pale ghosts. Words with a mouth learned on Valentine. Words like a burning little ocean. Words that hang in the pale moonlight. Alabaster doves confirm that. I, the drunken wave of light can also bend shafts of light. Make shadows fall. I hung all of Saturns moons. And, now that I feel your breath on my path and feel you close behind in space the hour of departure arrives. I become like faded captures, too. The past is already dead. And, the ash of the volcano seems to be my magnetic slave. Oh, my fingertips never stop like the black keys of the piano. They don't know speak and spell. That is obvious. But they do. Like eyes staring into the night. Black and full of white glowing stars I fasten them on pictures. Mouth touches a sort of cosmic symphony There are three of us here. The holy trinity living darkly and deeply. The unbearable lightness of being. A birthright in fetal position. And, there is silent knowledge hidden within these gates of eternity. Another universe inside. So, I lay in this terrible, beautiful lightness of being and yes you will hear me because beauty is always heard, seen, eaten up so devour me. I offer it to you and I'm breathing with this little mouth that's learned on Valentine. 

©WORDS Wendy Rose Watson