I saw a ghost in the light of you, tried very hard to displace this matter, big bunch of molecules. A million ghost ships are moored in the bay of St. Andrews. I bought three candles and a wooden marionette in the store by the beach. I took safe haven in the cabin in St. Martins, while the rain turned watercolour the pavement. The windowpane drew together the objects outside it into a washed out painting, that I stared at, as my mother made coffee on the stove top, small for camping. Fine sand was washed away by the storm in the moor with the car ride bedtime thunder, we would make like children if not for this lightning, shocking us to grey woolen eyed philosophers. There is a song in the silence. Breakfast is ready beneath the pines springing out of the clockwork of the Atlantic, the timed high and low tides of hot tea. A steady harmony, ethereal, is present in our language, everything wants to work together, everything wants to make something. We live in a house made of cobwebs. Chance is deliberate, the happenstance of always. There is one big moment occurring in a constant, exactly the way it will, a hard punch to the teeth, a gunshot, two warm bodies in a sleeping bag and a kiss. The world is parallel and juxtaposed to itself. The earth is an antonym. Everything exists opposed to itself. Everything is opposed to itself. At a cellular level we are a mass of smaller things, at a molecular level we are a mass of every- things. You can see ghosts in the big fat rain clouds, foxes in the summer night lightning. Everything is everything. Everything is everywhere, nowhere is nothing. We are everything in particular, our bodies wooden marionettes and three stars in the sky candles to call ours, this life is a rare gift, to call something that does not belong to us our own. We are objects through a stormy windowpane, all drawn together by a marble grey hurricane, pine trees in the clockwork of an unnamed ocean, losing and gaining sand continuously like a midpoint in a curbside river. I watched the lightning make quick erratic dances across a field where trees grow mighty hearts to hold things with- In love, this is all that we are, in pain, this is all everything is, an antonym earth, a happy raincoat, the calmest storm.
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 23:17:50 +0000
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