There is always a reverberation
Messiness of lines a collision of wind
and earth;
shaking my ground and causing my
hand to slip,
shit.
I'm tense. I'm tight.
My hips…
Where in this life can I sink into the
melting of my hips?
A home where I can listen;
ear to the wall of all
existence.
To hear what they're trying to tell me…
it comes through in these hips.
So sick of restriction;
the shunning of infinite glory;
the light in these hips,
these syrupy hips.
Hips for breakfast, moving in swiftness
unable to brake fast enough
out of restriction, out of pain
out of clean lines, out of shame.
There is always a reverberation.
And the next time I don't roll my
eyes.
Just drop my pen and fall down
my spine, blood to head;
let the blood flow all over the body.
Through my lungs with new juice
back to heart up (down) to brain;
brain is tired. brain is tired.
It’s been like this for lifetimes.
Heart talking now, hey, hi, ho, hi, hey.
Moving to the undulative rhythm
of some felt sense…
There is always a reverberation.
Deep dips that cause wide open
glances at the sky.
Did I really feel that?
How am I (still) alive?
Deep dips into deep blues
after the sun enervates my majesty,
my magic. Back to these
(black) hips.
Shadows of formation,
feeling good at this.
Shifting constellations with these hips
Saving generations with these hips
Syrupy hips, sweet suckling
pleasure-bearing hips.
Pleasure on my lips.
Hello to the morning, I whisper,
sunrise kiss…
God bless these hips.
Attune to these hips.
There is always a reverberation.
Shackle-free Sundays;
sun-daze through my sun gaze.
Take your eyes off of me?
I wish you would;
sarcasm dripping from my Sun-kissed
Moon-licked
Venus-dipped
hips.
There is always a reverberation.
Listen to the birds
and fill the void with the me
of forever.
The space between your brain and
butter…
...bread and butter…
Brain and jelly — where is the hot sauce?!
I ask for the umpteenth time.
I told you (God) I want to feel something;
don't you dare put me through
life not to
give me life.
Dismiss me, kill me, pray to God and tell him you miss me.
Shit.
So tense, intense push
to feel the hard edge of
life in these hips.
That's where I feel it.
Yes, where I feel it.
Tap, tap, sap from the tree,
and I'm rolling down
out of my skin, infinity
my next of kin.
Catch me in your arms and tell me
you love me;
shea butter between your palms.
Blow love in your hands,
catch the rhythm of life,
let's do it again.
