IMAGESThis is a featured page



Images lie in my mind like black gold, shimmering. Midnight or past midnight the shadowy wisteria clings to the ceiling and the cutout moonlight sparkles like stars between. Falling like a net upon us, an entanglement. Yes, an entanglement. Like legs and arms and fingers and tongues, leafy visions as shadowy, rich and fundamental as a reflected vine on textured canvas. These images wind around my mind and I follow the path, crawling. I am an ant with bright headlight eyes. I view the room, the home, the man, the life. If I swing my eyes to gaze out the window framing the moon, will he be laughing at me from behind his smoky veil? The problem is, I would probably laugh with him. Or at least smile. My vision is much brighter than his, and my eyes raze his pale world like fire. Positively, if he knew my passion, he would bask in the glow of being looked at so thoroughly. These images. I see and feel them all . And someone else watching would probably tell me I am ignoring the man touching me. Yet…the arms…the vine…the smoky breath drifting through the window. The tendril around my neck loosened, kissing and clinging to my shoulder. Something hair should never do. Images being drawn on my mind with a steady hand. One thing I am not is ignorant.

For Gary Amaro, years and years ago, in Berkeley.




No user avatar
RebeccaTacosaGray 		Latest page update: made by RebeccaTacosaGray , Dec 6 2008, 11:18 PM EST (about this update About This Update RebeccaTacosaGray Edited by RebeccaTacosaGray

9 words added

view changes
- complete history)
Keyword tags: None
More Info: links to this page

Threads for this page

There are no threads for this page.  Be the first to start a new thread.