number stations

in the woods every sound is a signal within a system. every signal a misdirection, a devilish navigator disrupting and remaking systems with each resonance.

The First

The first kiss,and you as a conductor, your fingers pulling at mine,onto the train and into the night,curving over mountains, through tunnels Steam turning electric,currents passing through me, burning and blindingyour fingers curled in mine,a journey without end

The Second

The next kiss,I as your guide, my hands on yours,guiding into woods, through dappled sunlight,among moaning trees, cracking leavesthe scent of life breaking, birthing, burning. The wind that howlsand shakes the leaves,the rain upon the trees –my fingers curled in your hairtime without end.

The Third

Time without end.We move through the twilight sky,through noctilucent clouds –swimmers in a sea of early night,ice crystals attaching to our skin, reflecting and becoming stars. Lights in the dark, whorls of stars,sparks flashing between our skin,the galaxy unfolding –our lips together, bodiesa new constellation. Guiding sailors across windswept oceans

The Fourth

Your skin pressed to my lips,aqueous, a riverto seek along, driventossed and turned, your criesa guide, loons moaning along misty shores. I become your riverine captain,my fingers as recon soldiers, probingfinding inlets, egress and admittance –this combat, now mutual,this struggle overwhelms.

The Fifth

You, the screaming gale,pushing turbine blades thatrip and scratchat the arching back of insistent winds.The moaning on the threshold – the shaking of the doors. You rush and swirl,a zephyr gathering power,sirocco full of dusty heat, rage –your eyes a swirling whorl,eternal and consuming.

The Sixth

This kiss, my lips as gardener,feeding heat along a verdant trough,a flickering tool movingin hidden spaces, the private gate discovered.The flowering, once hidden garden, opening. Blooms rising, bursting,from rich, fertile earth,unfurling, rising, seeking heat –a full circle,a frenzied birth.

The Seventh

This shared kiss, one body, one mouth,exclamations and proclamations, this tumbling tumult.This shared kiss, these shared lips. This shared breath.Sinking into verdant land, into this Garden. This shaking Earth. Writhing groaning gasping life.Frenzied motion and this quickening, this eternal –Tree of Life and the sacred fruit.Cojoined, erupting, ripe flesh and a quaking wood.

The Eighth

This kiss, that storywhispered to David, under the hanging gardens –the promise Heloise made to Abelard,the crowning of Ines as Peter wept.Life lost willingly, always a fleeting thing. Time’s lash, barbed fingers drawing blood,the groaning underneath, movement within,this kiss, that story.Time over timebody over body.

The Ninth

This body, a river splitting deep woods,a rushing babble over rounded pebbles.The doe lowering her head, takes drink,arching sinuous neck that reflects in ripple water.That neck in memory, fevered dreams –arching back and forth, hair whipping.Your knees bent alongside rising hips,this river splitting your fragrant wood.

Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s