Sunday, October 3, 2010

i rode my motorcycle down the trace along the lake in old iuka
the cool of your mouth still rung the nerves against my skin
and the drone of those miles took me high above the road into the thermal canopy
where swarms of birds rang out like making love in fall against your sweet blue hands

i can't say it truthfully my darling that there is even one broad second
that you don't crowd in earnest hard against the core of my pretense
the pang of those tender moments leave a less than steady current
and my chest tightens anxious by the hour, i am stanley running heavy against the pavement

though i'd like to portray the lionheart, like some indestructible uriah
i'm drowning remembering last night as you cooed fantastic in my dreams
the lavender satin doff came slow underneath our pressing-struggling desperate to illuminate
to apprehend those breaths we missed of us while meeting ends and ripping seams

to settle in to some perpetual groove, to sweat pelf and see efforts dominate
acting like its ok to be away when the world spins violently
every moment we misplace touch, every word we don't speak easily
strikes unkind against these childhoods we gave in turn near shouts of joy like christmas playthings

could i actually take you for my own and say i'm here beside you always
my nose will sleep beneath your neck until i'm dead
the travels i must take i will only take with you with me, ours
roadside wines and foods and beers, perfumes and plush motel beds

to see you bright, your fire fulfilled in the knowing that you can survive alone the heights in confidence
i understand and do not underestimate the plight of that beautifully vital hub of thoughts
but i also know you, and at last arrived, you'd satisfy those longings
pushing back new ships to life, if we could forever journey by, holding closely, disavowing the normal caveats

not losing eyes, blowing out the candles, before i leave you lying
in the scent of us,
it might seem to dissipate under the smoldering glowing mirth
but long after the ashes fly, my love, you will still smell engines burning
we are eternal we are the sun we are the nightingale come autumn
we are the fragrant oil seen traveling back to earth



nicole said...

Josh.....that's sick!!! Good sick. You are so gifted! You words are just as talented as your voice. Hope all is well!!

Jules said...

that is beautiful! OMG! Wow!

I miss you and hope all is well in your world...

Tamara Michelle said...

Wow! this is great. I love it.
Thank you so much for sharing.

Elijah said...

Josh! i love this! this could easily be the brainchild of whitman and camus. empty, and full, and speckled with red blooded imagery.