Friday, February 24, 2006

Meaning and Misplacement

"love on me - this love,
love on me, this love, love..."




Oh, Godhead.
What can I possibly say?

Sit down close to me.
Godhead,
I know -
it is so beautiful, so severe.
Mi scusi, il mio tesoro,
I cavalli
selvaggi
non potrebbero
trascinarme lontano.



It begins in the light of
a high-winded chiesa, stirs
in the grasses beyond
the plain - I cavalli
selvaggi
non potrebbero
trascinarme lontano.

Hands designed for two,
divide,
fingers begin to fade
the need from lack.

A moment, a moment, a winter implosion,
felt below the creases of
our shirts that cling,
like there has never
been
so much at stake.

And it is marvel
that smoothed the lines
written into our
palms - it fastens them
together, like seed to soil.

Stand amid these defenses
and you will see it: the fire
that [rises]
from my breath.

Four hours or so from
the storm: a coupé, secure,
mind race, and
l'umore
vigore terrestre.


[Italian], the only suitable
'sure thing' - yea. Oh, oh,
and intention.
How the hell
are you supposed to leave?

1 comments to Cher:

Lost Days said...

That which resides within you, you never leave, no matter the journeys to come...
walk with me?

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