The Rub

The combination of suggestions for realities never heard before

unsaid in the supple dream of turning to get past the body into the no body, where no one lives, not you, not me, but recognition

myopic perspectives in the cradled zone between this no body examining yours

writing notes on the skin, unmaking it, turning it back to what the uterus undid

the undressing of your already said

saying this reconstruct,

the new construction of what I never could have guessed on my own

the playground of seeming to say 'guess what I you mean', in the air, birds swallow bugs to digest and keep going

the recuperation of 'thank god you said that' all the forces in the world brought this moment into me like a siv

I seek the clarification in the 'let's expose, tell me something I don't know'

the fineness of discovery

the sexy support of 'you get what I mean'

hold my back in repose

I'm postured and can now stretch my tongue over the face of your gesture,

the glance is only an astrix (alien rock that falls from the sky) (a foot note) leading to the next point in t ime

when the we of the now gloriously takes me with you

the architecture of body space

a public aside

said to me through the understanding of the not needing to explain

I live to find that sag of 'just enough' and moving on.

Maybe it is the rapidity of speech,

my own deep fears of not knowing enough

of drying out in the distraction of 'well it's what I was given'

Always

The sight of construction is my sex.