ADAPTATION

the image of the invisible god.

flesh transcript

sleep seeker dream eater

your words soak into my brainstem

adaptation.

finding home in the counterpart to your countenance

since the children have flesh and blood.

the testimony of three

a portfolio filled with the facets of your face.

those aren't mountains, they're waves.

stretch the stars toward your singularity.

you're everything I want and more --

we're back.

she sees my hair at your feet. covering covering covering

my sunny red and your burnished bronze

explosion against the darkness, your ash canvas,

I love to rest in your shade

"do you wanna jump?"

matti asks herself,

michelle smiles at my wildflowers,

there's a shy jealous spark in your eye.

I blush back.

we walk to the ocean.

you look to your left,

there's robbie beside me,

I miss you,

sandy beside me on a beach chair,

the privilege of loving.

it's okay, you carry me in dreams.

i look to my right,

jaco locks eyes and hands.

together we lift thousands on the sand.

he squeezes my shoulder in the break room. does he know?

a silver screened life.

so here is my prayer -----

I want you to take me to the place that just barely interacts with what language can convey. Take me to the very horizon of verbal expression, a place where we are desperately grasping words few and far between, like holds on a rock climbing wall, a place where our distance from language is what makes our experience more real than anything we've ever known.