"your breath smells like milk"
this is her blues position, ear pressed to heart
in hopes of making a beat with the sounds of my body.
our embrace bulges with the fever
of an ancient gospel rage. i search her
as women do when hips move,
give my body like never before,
taste the curled tail calf of my childhood
where i once praised the prairies. spirits rise there
like they rise here, in heat and beast.
i curve naked into her, smell her in me
the next morning, smell us camping in the wild
flowers for too long--discover wherever spirits rise,
the whole of me spills.
later i tell her
her words, my belly was in heat
so i licked the moon and quit the whiskey.
Color Talk
“Naming of colors is dependent on a specific language. There can be a vast and complex system representing determination of a color in a given language.”
Orange Talk: Realizing you need the other in you, the you in I, I in you. Usually involves curves in thighs, long slender fingers, top hat and tie. The woman-in-love eats an orange like she mouths a lover spot, completely aware of the acidic waterfall. The woman-in-love eats an orange while everyone ponders how she could make earth flats into world curves. To live the word, love the blood-orange.
Red Talk: The human condition that requires physicality. Blood vision is never a complete understanding of the totality. As if totality were possible.
Tan Talk: Putting up billboards of identities for sale. The color of building. Houses that look like houses across the houses. Feels like you are on mushrooms. Economic literacy. This usually involves a pondering while driving to South Dakota. As if fragmentation always existed. Assume yes and chaos will succeed. Assume no and chaos will succeed. Assume bush.
“While the range in the number of basic color terms between languages may seem to highlight a striking difference, there is almost without exception a pattern to how these color terms are included among the basic color terms. As might be expected, languages with two basic color terms name black and white.”
Aqua Talk: The color of the ocean when people became less passive and more assertive. They say the language became too salty. When they went to speak they just spit and their eyes watered as they spit out sounds. The sounds occasionally have the effect of waves crashing the shore, fighting for land.
White Talk: Invisibility, privilege. Lost. Occasionally a snowflake and a village. The penetration felt in the deodorant isle at Target.
Blue Talk: This is contradictory. It pulsates purple, but remains blue. It rubs until the friction explodes and then the lovers go to coffee. Contemplate union. Argue just to see blues eyes work magic. Zen blue. Kitchen blue. Women blue.
Grey Talk: The flooding of the world where wet language rolls off of hips n’ fists, lips belting out dream words. Where incoherent identities birth the world over. Speak words. The color of the dream when the trombone grinds.
