The moment flies by and you�re mired in a dark heavy goo. Arms and legs vanish and the pieces of your living matrix melt into an amorphous gray uncooked batter. Bones drip and eyelids droop and shoulders drop and.... a confusing crushing collapse funnels hope into a dusty corner, well furnished with boxes and lockers of your youth.
Yet in the dustiness....buried....a bit rusty....and deflated, scratched and banged and cracked with age .... and laughably ancient... she caresses your palms and soothes your soles and offers a seat for your weight. a cushioned friend a time of unlaboured breath and chaotic freedom She beckons in her stillness....a form....a structure..... echoed in spidered webs still resonating.
You reach out and in the moment of the embrace, a gesture so delicate and rich in intent, a weight settles with that touch,... shifted dust, exposed and faded red enamel paint, ....and up....up with the flecks of summer days to the park, along the river, in autumn through the leaf piles and jouncing along the smooth stoned stream bed, droplets and cascades of rushing water fly up from the wheels and churning feet, laughing through the roar and up the sandy bank .... She is then flung in her shininess with a rolling momentum across the cool grass until her riderless confusion teeters and tumbles,... leaving a whirling, everslowing pinwheel clinking in the half shade...... forgotten briefly for the pendulum, with a full corporeal knowledge of her permanence...... Those were sunny clear days and she would be.... She would be when and where and without a thought and yet when hometime arrived, and the shadows and cool evening breeze, the reminder of an empty stomach whispered.... she would be, she would be.
No need to wistfully recall the airy lightness or the gashed wounds, so delightful in their dried bedroom discoveries. No need to unwind the memories and try to distill the pleasures or meanings. Crank up a fresh tune. Listen to the new winds and graphite rush. Hear the compressed smoothness of the new whirl and alloyed pings. Find the breath and pulse of your declination and the setting sun will glow.... warming and lighting your trail.
by michael hermiston