“Though you have never possessed me
I have belonged to you since the beginning of time” ~ Mina Loy, from “Three Moments in Paris”
Today’s post arose from the Boubat photograph above . . .
I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought
I wish I wrote the way I thought
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
A lot more
Than I should
~ Benedict Smith
You need me like ice needs the mountain
On which it breeds. Like print needs the page.
You move in me like the tongue in a mouth,
Like wind in the leaves of summer trees,
Gust-fists, hollow except for movement and desire
Which is movement. You taste me the way the claws
Of a pigeon taste that window-ledge on which it sits,
The way water tastes rust in the pipes it shuttles through
Beneath a city, unfolding and luminous with industry.
Before you were born, the table of elements
Was lacking, and I as a noble gas floated
Free of attachment. Before you were born,
The sun and the moon were paper-thin plates
Some machinist at his desk merely clicked into place.
~ Monica Ferrell
Music by Nikki Reed and Paul McDonald, “All I’ve Ever Needed”