The hours climb the long steps, through the forest and up the mountain, straight past the observable sky and beyond the ken of all the obligatory stars. They tell the length of every take, chewing scenery in months and miles, strumming along and beating the boards front to back. Soon the calendar swaps dogs, and the words do the say so, strung along in dry heaved proclamations and dead eyed threats. The score from some movie scene gives way to Rue Bassin brass, the Sunny Side of the Street playing as the last light leaves. The long sustain and the rising night.
The shadows assemble, pouring from form and frame. Unseen wings spread as the light retreats into street lamps and headlights, pressed inside of windows, peeking through the blinds. A heavy sound rumbles down my spine and sounds out through my chest before growling out my open mouth and butting heads with the wall and the amplified voices of strangers. My anxieties and tensions all assemble through the scorched ley lines strung between neurons and the occluded fuss of what may be, the husk a song that never starts, the heart a litany that doesn’t end. The ceiling just hangs there, how ever long I stare.
Dreams are obligatory, love is on a sliding scale, the sky’s the limit depending on your sky. Better keep a bag by the door, better make those kisses last. The possibilities are diminishing as we seek the sacred self and the graceless gelt, as the words devour themselves and all the teeth are showing. The crackdown laces up their shiny boots, acting out their skull cracking credos, seemingly unaware that the other side hasn’t been hitting back. Breathe in, breathe out. The earth blesses you with heart and power. Let your roots sing out blood and fire, the starry night woven through your plaits.
