She's Here

Spring has swooped down and is sitting in the center of creation. Everyone stands around her, motionless, staring. She is unconcerned with the audience’s attention or unawareness. She’s used to it. I want to ask for her autograph. I want to be just like Spring. Whenever she arrives is right on time. 

Time! Philosophy, religion, these are just two-dimensional, all forced perspective. They seem so far, so sure, so straight. They’re fucking flat, all right? They’re flat.

You, Me – are three-dimensional. We weren’t made in the U.S.A., we’re not crap. We were imported, we’re quality.

And Spring! She’s trying to explain this to us with her presence. Don’t move. But do breathe – you must breathe – oh GOD, I don’t need anything else but Spring’s air. Then there’s a wallop of wind. Hair, skirts, scarves try to fly away, we stop them, they resent us for it.We start walking. Remembering our routines. If only we could forget them.

5 thoughts on “She's Here

  1. into the strenuous briefness
    Life;
    handorgans and April
    darkness,friends

    i charge laughing.
    Into the hair-thin tints
    of yellow dawn,
    into the women-coloured twilight

    i smilingly
    glide. I
    into the big vermillion departure
    swim,sayingly;

    (Do you think?)the
    i do,world
    is probably made
    of roses & hello:

    (of solongs and,ashes)

  2. O sweet spontaneous
    earth how often have
    the
    doting

    fingers of
    prurient philosophers pinched
    and
    poked

    thee
    ,has the naughty thumb
    of science prodded
    thy

    beauty .how
    often have religions taken
    thee upon their scraggy knees
    squeezing and

    buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
    gods
    (but
    true

    to the incomparable
    couch of death thy
    rhythmic
    lover

    thou answerest

    them only with

    spring)

  3. I wanted to tell you my dream last night that you were in. Haha.

    Okay, so you and I were in New York, and we were going to a Broadway production of ’17 Again’. We get there, and Zac Efron isn’t in the cast, he’s in the audience. He causes all this commotion, and keeps whining about every little thing. He makes te makeup artist come and work on him even though he’s not in the cast. Then you and I sat behind him and took turns telling him how much of a vagina he was and that the real world isn’t peaches.

    Haha. Random, but I woke up laughing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s