Beneath her coat was a whole identity: A subtle form of ideas under soft fur, A constantly shifting mass of meaning... @@ -30,6 +30,6 @@ And slowly, she'd pick herself back up And find a brand new way to piece herself together And build herself a brand new smile And brush out her coat once more. -
Expect:
Anxiety
A hundred geese overhead —
A thousand —
A million —
@@ -56,7 +56,7 @@ Acrid tang of ill omens.
Portents.
Too much meaning
In too small a space.
- Expect:
auditory aberrations
Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress
Of two layers of phantasmagorical
Newtonian fluids,
@@ -75,7 +75,7 @@ Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress
A thin, sort-of Truth
From a sort of thin layer
geese chromatography.
- Expect:
red tint to vision; hot flashes
As the dove bears the olive branch,
so to the goose bears the wand
that withers all it touches.
@@ -95,7 +95,7 @@ A wand of nightshade,
A wand of obscure origin,
The goose surely stole it.
Malice begets malice.
- Expect:
confusion; nausea; sweating; racing pulse
We know not the transgression,
the origin -
We know not the punishment,
only the terror.
-
Geas
Wing
Dark
Horizon
- Expect:
tinnitus; piloerection; shortness of breath; uneven gait
I’d rather owls.
Owls, as though geese were turned inside out,
made less evil.
@@ -148,7 +148,7 @@ Still portentous,
Just less terrifying.
Owls are okay.
I can think about owls.
- Expect:
subdermal itching; formication
Life within a comfortable grid.
Parallel lines
Interrupting narrowing circles
@@ -172,7 +172,7 @@ Trace the roof of your mouth
I’m not afraid of geese anymore
Because I can step on them now.
I’m big enough.
- Expect:
birds
Ritual thinking
Driven by geese —
By lines, by grids, by food —
@@ -199,5 +199,5 @@ Failing that,
Or the ecstasy of signs
Without the bleak paranoia
Over circling birds?
-
Every time I fall,
The ground tells me I'm in love.
"'Cause love is
@@ -42,4 +42,4 @@ And every time I fall,
The ground tells me I'm in love.
And every single time,
I keep coming back.
-
I bought my name fair and square;
Bespoke, built from whole cloth.
I wrote it again and again,
@@ -36,4 +36,4 @@ Or the whisper of maple leaves
Under hurrying paws
Or the perfect overlap of new buds
Already sticky with sap.
-Used to be you and I daily would walk through the fields out back of the house and talk for hours, spilling words and emotions. @@ -171,4 +171,4 @@ through the fields out back of the house and talk. Now, it's just me, alone, quiet, thinking of you by the shore, forever drinking of sweet water. -
Too many wine-dark seas need daily traversal, And here the shipping forecast calls for rain. @@ -25,6 +25,6 @@ is to tell you southwest gale 8 to storm 10. I can point at the moon, exhausted, bored, decaying, And hope you don't stare blankly at my finger. -
There's some duality between sources of meaning,
Between the types of stories we use to back identity.
It's not quite good & bad or light & dark,
@@ -45,4 +45,4 @@ It's not a dichotomy at all, really,
now that I think about it.
It's something subtler, comfortably complex, a topic of its own.
I guess it's just meaning & self.
-
Though the flow'r may bloom ere long
and night recede unto the dawn,
so yet may love's embrace grow fond
@@ -26,11 +26,11 @@ With so keen and fond a blade,
There's naught to fear in life or death.
So slay, then slay! For now, I care not how,
I need for naught but that which love allow.
-
Though every climax approach a denouement
And every dawn a night,
Every moment worth sharing
@@ -51,11 +51,11 @@ Pleasure may hurt, ache, burn,
May steal hours of night.
Were it with you,
Delay, then, the morn.
-I reach for the ewer of water, I hope to quench the heat. I beg for yet another serving, @@ -70,11 +70,11 @@ Though the heart may quicken -- Though the tongue may lap -- I shall sup no greater meal Than thy gift entrancing. -
On reading letters late received, I felt within: the fox -- Yelping, yowling now, crying needfully -- @@ -84,11 +84,11 @@ You find me at a disadvantage -- Panting and aswish -- Would that distance be traversed as easily As hearts t'wards yearning hearts! -
A rose, single, now blooming
may indeed bless the stem,
yet are not roses clipp'd and shown?
@@ -110,3 +110,4 @@ Must yearn forever for that grace.
To watch that growth, to explore stem's turn,
day by day would destroy, weakening one by the hour,
A rose, single, now blooming, forever holds all pow'r.
+
diff --git a/content/post/post-op-images.md b/content/post/post-op-images.md
index 7279d30..6c97d59 100644
--- a/content/post/post-op-images.md
+++ b/content/post/post-op-images.md
@@ -11,7 +11,7 @@ tags:
title: Post-op images
---
-
Saturday is for mechanics.
Sunday is for terror.
@@ -152,4 +152,4 @@ What changed you?
Everything
What became of it?
I became who I am
-
Her hair is tied with a ribbon
Saying "This is not for you."
She wears a pendant of stamped brass
@@ -55,4 +55,4 @@ She never wanted to be
What she became;
The irony of which
Is not lost on her.
-The dogs assure me: There are volumes of meaning — Life and death — @@ -26,7 +26,7 @@ The rich scent of meaning — Heady, intoxicating — Rises only from words And the way you rest your hands on the table. -
There is too much fire in me to be described by the soldering iron's tip. If I were to draw that across my flesh, @@ -27,4 +27,4 @@ Particle would excite particle until I'm felt only as warmth on your face. But even that would not be enough. -
I keep hoping that, one day, I'll spring palladial from the bole of a tree. Fully formed, sexless, @@ -32,4 +32,4 @@ My vision will be clear and unclouded, My will affirming, strong, and sure. And when I fall, I will remain whole, Confident that I lived well and unapologetic. -