the MOON
I drove up to the city at night where the hills were filled with void, lack, houses and you grew up there and your gooey melted self that you hold strongly somehow ricocheted off your parents’ absence and you narrowly escaped and felt stronger and hotly radiated revenge towards us all today and you were spending the night nervously dialing for your true friends and strongly I got your call and lovingly was reeled in. I invested it all for some reason and found myself excited to see the warming city night sky through the cars and painful glass and gas and the beautiful location and soiled sand bore fruit before rotting and cutting down and sickly replacing for the wrong reasons. I was wholly excited to greet this waste. Pointless things like trimmed trees and radio towers became towering symbols and I noticed you in the cold standing simply right next to me and then we walked around until it got late, a triumphant blow to the fleeting fires that usually pull us both to bed when they go out early on, disappointingly early, you told long stories about your long upbringing while we passed mansions and leaf-blown heaps, rot, bricks and garages, we could probably both feel the ghost of a lighthouse of a tree they could see from out in boats and across the bay where everyone used to climb the hill, where now 3 red metal towers dominate, to congress and figure out what’s gong wrong, back before all the things in the city were so devastatingly wrong, someone’s house dumbly replaced such an important spot, the house dumb and serving so few because of its quick rise. But alas, in spite of all this spirit-breaking waste I felt intact, sturdy even, a soaring self looking around and noticing the minor things that importantly hung on, meekly insisting that the world is actually mysterious and unconquerable, even the weird beauties we have a tainted hand in: the glowing orange nighttime cloud cover, the echoing cross walk alarm, the din of the street, tires rotting, our weak castle being slowly demolished, these things can bring me slowness, calm power and cutting eyes in the right moments, and I felt it then looking up at the orange lights lighting unfortunate streets and reflecting back up and resonating through the thick cloud coating in an orange city glow, the black behind eerily reminding us not to forget what else, and I turned my cutting eyes your way and saw pools of brown just as wide as my holes of brown bearing honestly what we held inside for a second we were both looking brave and sharply seeing in. I ended up just spending the night up there next to you in the same room where you grew up and the sleep was so thick that when we woke up, when the sun was up miraculously again, it was a miracle to me that we were still sweetly there in your parents’ house, lying in bed together feeling strong and open and the light came in the expensive windows to light our out-of-place thighs like raised arms and cocked head screaming in rejoice, the feeling was deep and strong. Tides turned. I went back to feel alone there, to wipe the place clean, to see the towering symbols for what they were, to confront painful clues to a wholesome loving past and neutralize myself in a way where maybe I could be human again.
Flashback: and we went all the way up to the small town where I’m from and you had family there and a big wholesome idea about what I was because of the wholesome sense that this place puts off, and admittedly it’s a wholesome place, foggy blankets hold rocky peaks and fishing nets usually are getting untangled in the yard. We were there separately as kids when it was safe from the poor judgement that’s ruining it now. The wind blows strongly and whipped us into a wintry frenzy feeling rugged and warm about the closeness we calmly shared and we avoided thinking of the problematic plan you set out with that would bloom and hurt later on. We went to the top of the mountain and looked off the edge at the other islands and the rolling clouds, the cascading mountains and the eerie heights. It was high to look down from and still feel safe, we held each others’ hand and sadly couldn’t all the way feel each other, though the smooth wrinkles in your palm were hot and shocking enough to generate a sense of clear in me. I finally felt like I was breathing free to be at such a height and look across the globe and hold a loving limb that gripped lovingly and firmly in the whipping wind. Was I imagining this sense that you were also there with me? Was I putting you in a role I’d already put out and just believing what I wanted? I got a glimpse that replaced my doubts with a thick breath of clean air, the fog below parted and revealed lakes and trails through the mossy woods where we spent that night outside under mountainous blankets looking up at the swaying trees in a way that told an old story to me, the lyrical swaying of long black limbs was full of character, the character was so dark and long lasting into the night it crept into our heads and held us under its spell, we dreamt the same dream, and ended up dreaming creepily similar every night, our minds were obviously dreaming towards the same cloudy “place” for a sweet reason and I held tight to that fact, the shallow proof that we were on the right path and looking back this becomes a gloomy shameful clawing grasp: we were lonely people lying out in the yard struggling to feel each other, sleeping soft, to feel softness so nearby is a slippery reward, we got it in our grasp and held tight all night in a way that put our limbs asleep. There was the distant repetition of the lighthouse tone all night, the wooshy clacking of the trees’ chilly blow and more cloudy glowing lights from the refinery’s green glow in the sky, the night was long and sort of weird how chilly and sturdy it felt the whole thick night through. Another miraculous awake dawning, roosters and tramping baby goats bleating and discussing the common night, for animals in the barn who wake up cold every day there’s no refreshing feeling like ours to get hot slowly while the creeping sun composted our mountains of padding, waking up in the yard felt the same with soupy muscles as the day before being tilted by wind and clinging to rocks in a barren place, the warm slow chesty feeling was the same, the calm assurance of having a friend who can see with you, you know? but the cutting truth was made clear: I have an island home, my place is to be ferried not bridged, the dramatic sadness poured out and I went back and felt alone in those places, I went up the mountain again alone and tried to not hold any false power in my old feelings up there, I let myself feel awful and blow away.
We went to the beach together, a detailed trip with larger vague warm feeling. It was cold and we only had the wool blanket from my bed, we used it as a shield from the sandy wind and the blinding light coming off the loud water, a tiny tent, a hidden birth, 2 bodies on the earth eating sand and lovingly rubbing it in all around and through our hair, taste, temperature, a fresh perspective of what seems really important, a triumphant statue in the face of a lonely world, we had a lofty feeling on the beach like pioneers while I pioneered the territory in your chest, the bloody frontier, my homestead was stocked with flesh and whispered stories, a bountiful stockpile for today’s long winter, my cured supplies have turned bitter, the warmth I hoped to reminisce about was a freezing illusion, there’s no storing away what’s so true and fleeting, the constant palette of lack is reliable, it’s slow and visible through a flimsy film of pride and poorly built false secure senses. It was intense. We were new, you were trying to stake your claim on me then and I swung my gate wide for your parade, gifts, jugglers, banners, fruitful hope and warm teamwork. You moved in upstairs from my room, you lowered down notes, you walked softly on my ceiling, your bath leaked on me. There on the beach in the wind we were 2 teams joining forces understandingly and streamlining to fierce wind, the roaring waves, the pounding surf, the foggy (something) that caught my eye stayed there and grew, my view got wide and I was a larger person, magnificently widened. Wide eyed under covers in a threatening place and feeling warmth from another’s breath. I got sharply cut in half and had to go back to the sea and wish I hadn’t opened my gates. I had to, in a way, renounce what I knew was true and the large ways that I’d grown I had to claim to not be, it was stupid. I went to the sandy expanse and felt sweeping regret, my woolly shield at home, and standing out there threatening to be blown down, to inflict a sobering blow on my cold head. I stared to sea in a violent way, a red gaze to the blue washy spray. I went back there to remember my small place and your insignificant role.
Continuously now every single night since I’ve been alive there’s been a white light from above, a sort of eerie bluish glow on the empty streets where we live. In the summer’s end we climbed out the window downtown and out onto the roof with more blankets again and stared knowing at it for what it was, a floating ball of rock lit up by another ball, an invisible ball of fire reflecting light and weird blue mooney thoughts ricocheted around our planet onto us on the roof staring silently up and feeling invincible, dangerous, and high, I had the exciting feeling of heft in my chest like I was carrying a baby, my baby looked exactly like me and looked me in the eye sharply knowing I was about to lose it but from up on the roof I looked out across the globe again with you: I felt the lava behind us coursing deeply and the other side, I felt the space above us and the other side of the moon and behind that, and off to the side I felt tiny lights off the glass, my sensitivity ran off, I could feel electricity through a wire from a mile away and I even felt the churning water turning turbines behind that and the fish upstream and smooth rocks beneath being slowly ground down by the polishing flow and the bubbling mountains glacially spilling stone, the smooth escape and reformation of pilgrims from one rotting body to another tiny growth to rot soon and expand. I felt a part of this all and I was content to have you feel it too, to have the blood in your hand holding mine be equally wet and warm, and I looked to my right and saw you riveted to the sky, riveted in an all encompassing way to feel it all, including me and my mountainous pride to your left, we were a pair of moist bodies again in the creepy bluish light. To be able to feel in an instant the size of your self and the distance to that elusive glowing ball and the long path it all takes to become what you’re a part of now: it’s like being transcendently dead for a second, to be able to breathe in and out and have that be a rapturous play, we were silently amazed and nobody said any words, we felt safe and we discovered that our skin is soft, we both are glowing in smooth flesh like blue mooney light and we found that out, you had your arm on my waist, I had my palm on your neck, air flowed in and slid out, cars drove by, the roaring sound of the planet’s spin, we were separately mighty and tiny universes and our main strength was being able to psychically discuss certain death, the only thing left. We were mighty. After getting terribly hurt by you I had to go back and cancel everything out that had any value, a helpful and depressing way of dealing with such a loss. I went out into the street by my house to try and look up at the moon blindly, to all of a sudden think it’s a white hole or some kind of stupid prop, to get in the car and drive pointlessly around, to try and forget that. I made the attempt to hang my mightiness up and to be painlessly dumb, peacefully numb, it seemed better to not have to know what’s really going on for some reason. I sacrificed my calm powerful way for a stupid attempt to avoid, I stood out in the street looking up and my eyes got wide. There’s no escape and the end’s not something I’d be able to wait out, I have to lucidly keep going along and feel the cut grow and get infected before it even maybe won’t heal, I looked up for a long time and my mouth got wide and chilly air filled my chest I saw the slow rustling in the bushes across the tracks and the orange lights up the street and the tunnelling feeling below them, my neck bent low as I surveyed my still dark home, I saw my feet firmly planted on the cement. They were tinted in blue and I looked past them through the crusty layers into the burning coil, I saw the smoke from my chimney and felt my stomach roar and in the blue light I held on to my lack.