swing

she wears galaxies of memorabilia
upon the dangerous hip; adorned
as if awakened at night in order
to hover through the day.

the psychic factions of her limbs
can and will call forth a sort of
sheer fabric of passion and i am
obliged toward such ornaments,

with which i find the causal
bruises of her strengthened agency:
she swings in a hair-knotting wind
of forced attention, for example.

or escapes upon the sway of
life-sized wings that are cambered
by the velocity of blasts that toss

her body back and away.

i have urges in sleep that become
perhaps the bone in a dangerous

mouth, how they are strange clots in 

the blood stream of my otherwise quiet.

i have no control of it. (meaning, the
motion of her.) or rather, the gravity
of the swing's prayer-like pendulum-pull,
its significant finality of cause.

the effect is stupendous and scary
at once: the blank forwardness of
her travel; the tonguing way it laps
at the ridge of my weakening field.

so my position becomes a thing

of uneven sky beneath a watery

earth and i am left primitive in

my new approach to her want.

i say i need, but really it is all

a pure swaggering thrum of

unspent investment in time

caught upon a canopy of fright.

this here is rare oxygenated

lightning. it is fresh departure.

it is irrigated conscience. it is

misspent sweat of the thighs.

it is a beautiful destination

toward which my arms betray

my eyes, my legs betray my

mouth, my heart betrays god.

a full-hearted rain on the roof

cannot compare to the malice

of a swing when occupied by

a soul searching for rebellion.

dear god have i tried. how i

have governed my impulses

in one fashion for years, to

see it all spin out to fortune.

the attempt must be swallowed

and regurgitated so that the 

soul can eat nourishment from

a bowl of oblivious nectar...

i come back always-ever to

a place of standing to aping

shame and the royalty that

comes with no crown.

heaven is searched in these

moments as i negotiate the

swing: to pray to find the

apex, to pray to find my grasp.

when in truth i have no

leverage against something

so violently shoved and so

dutifully kept as a soul

wanting to escape from me;

unache for me;

break from me;

in the name of love.