literature

Browallia

Deviation Actions

Published: Jul 21, 2008

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Literature Text

_{three years ago, in the garage of a boy
I have never met,
chaos
   bled
into peace

and on the warfs of time there stood the aching silhouette
of such a true heart.

The heart was not two hearts

but one incalcuable heart

sweeter than sea shells found
and stranger than dreams. You are the high plucked note of an electric guitar,
echo -

wonder

you are true sleep.
and the only
awake -

You are not here or there but carried, kept,
safe, far -

dangerously near always.

I know you, and I have watched the clocks melt
at our feet. Watch them too; take up your hands
and reach, rest, know...

Know that time, Time is nothing...

It never was.

In dark hours,
when the sun was going to rise

and it did

and I was crying anyway

a field of tiger lilies bloomed
in my chest. You heard the sigh
and ached too and nothing was more bare as bone
than the way that true love

listens

.

--

I opened my mouth
  and gave them all to you--the unbreakable petals and dewpoints--
see they grew invariably
toward the scratchy light
of your voice,
and nothing, not even fire,
changes that...

So then doves
arrived in me,

  and I spoke law

I entered
a holy honesty.

My voice brushed the hair
from your eyes and my parted mouth breathed star hopes
inside, in there. Heart. Static.

---Clarity.

I said you are so much deeper than blood

and in that instant,
somewhere--right here--
right there--

a shadow died.
A ghost shattered.

You understood.

Not out of
courtesy, not from lack
of sleep--

but from the simple beautiful hurt
that your blood
glows also

--

I am afraid of how beautiful the word 'wings'
is, and hours ago, I had ears again. You...

Angels blew hallehjuah smoke
against piano keys and the sound
of breath was

so unbreakable it broke speech

I knew the sound

And God,
I will always
know
the sound

--

You are not

a gift

but a realm of gifts, over and over...
Do you see the marks on my hands? The trails of gold dust?
I can't
stop opening you.

Music entered you once
and twenty minutes in I was chosen and something rocked
the core of heaven I said} you. are. the act. of living

_{and you are}