not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

we are in the woods




we are in the woods and we have stopped, we have stopped our bodies, our bodies that had been working, had been moving through the deep snow, we are in the woods and we have stopped our bodies, our bodies with a story, they are friends of ours that we have brought together, introduced, but we are in the woods and have stopped our bodies;  at the base of trees we stare up and consider every inch of tree and every meter inside of every inch and just to the left of this and just to the right;  who knew all distance existed here? the trees imperceptibly moving at first, travelling across universes after a time in our eye, we are in the woods and we have stopped our bodies;  sound bends and curves and moves past shape and we leave our bodies to join it,  my soul rides like a hand the long bend of your swell, and your soul caresses like a tongue the inside of my arm, my throat, my stomach, the one i've just left behind;  how is it so? and yet this is how it is in the woods when we have stopped our bodies;

high up in the branches of the trees we nearly perch, but while we have stopped our bodies, our souls do not know how to stop;  almost, almost, and then beyond, we move forever outward and formless into light beyond, beyond, forever outward from the tops of trees.

4 comments:

  1. erin, so cool. Thanks for this - it rules.

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  2. Im imagining all the snow you've told me about while I stand here on the same continent, shedding my coat to ride home in 62 degree sun :)

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  3. "they are friends of ours that we have brought together" . . . ahhhhhhhhhh!!!! steven

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))