Heidi and IA Poem by p.kuhl
I won't pretend to know
what sad, slow days look like through the semi-transparent blue of your brown eyes, but I imagine they grow up your spine in secrecy, like vines from a very tall, very old tree, as you flick fire ants off your loose roots. There must be something I could say about your swinging spectrum that could enlighten the old man that walks from my head to yours, but when I use phrases like I understand or I am listening, I have already abandoned the beauty of your shouted silence, and I am left to wonder whose voice it really is that echoes back to me. If words could travel along the taut line between our aluminum-can telephones, it would vibrate like tantric chants above this chaotic playground. What we share is what the world keeps of us, and I won't pretend to know what that will be in ten-thousand years, but right now we are run-on sentences, comma after comma. There is no point that stops our rolling river long enough to catch our breaths, only little spaces for us to jump across as we try to collect thought after thought after godforsaken thought. Our book reads right to left but it is also angled toward the reader's heart, as if we are tumbling down a hill, backwards, hitting the bottom, then sprinting back up to start over. If anyone cared to pick us up, open us, read us, they would have to tilt their head in curiosity and stare into us long enough to realize we are not meant to be read aloud. © 2014 p.kuhl |
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Added on March 30, 2014 Last Updated on March 30, 2014 Authorp.kuhlBloomington, INAboutMy name is Pierce, and I am a 23 year old English major at Indiana University. "How easily I connect to you. You're always everything at once, somehow. You're shy and open, sweet and cold, curious .. more..Writing
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