FEBRUARY 25, 2012 12:30PM

the bower/reactant romance/voilĂ 

Rate: 6 Flag



or night might be a satin bowerbird offering the blue sky to lure you to itself

end of day flying toward feathery dark,  beak and talons,

honeymoon of home and another dance of hours, more black and blue

hormones - pheromones - serotonin - oxytocin - dopamine -

chemistry of the crescent moon - dark spill of blood and smeared longing

across the infinite space of disconnect which isn't a void but avoid


ignore the conjurer's tricks - myth of metaphor - unsameness of simile

the breath behind abracadabra - whatever it is it is its own magic



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this is a milky way of images spinning in my head, beautiful and beckoning and making me smile.
'The breath behind abracadabra.'
Beautiful. All of this is beautiful. Such a wild ride so fearlessly feathered into being.
I'm smitten, as usual. The final voilà feels like a peek behind the curtain, and I'm not even sure what I see there but god do I like it.

chemistry of the crescent moon? Ooh la la.
Enjoyed the combination of ethereal and flesh and blood, thanks for this on a Sunday morning.
Thank you dear readers for your lovely, lovely comments.
Swirling and twirling with pleasure and hummings and tingles...strangely uninhibited. Love this.
Images familiar ~
these birds are beautiful, ingenious,
diligent artists but in the end
unfaithful, yet they multiply.

love chemistry of the crescent moon,
or any moon, really,
& the bower too, I admit.
They love the colour of their own eye
& see it everywhere.
Those violet-blue eyes... I sometimes left ribbons and bits of fabric about the yard to give them some relief from all the plastic bottle cap and clothespin scavenging.
and they do deserve satin and ribbons, such wondrous things
and I marvel how your first lines are always a vortex taking our breath and volition away
gladly, so gladly we dance in these words

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