Sound of a Different Sun

Pour A Blanket Over The Grass
Pull a cherry from its cart cut deep into its skin and chew around the pit spit the Hard Inside from the blood of its mother that coats your teeth in shining Red
You can spit farther than me maybe you have more air in your lungs or will in your chest maybe there is something that needs to come out but all you can muster is wind
After the Fruit is Gone sink into the grass mattress hill and wait for the sun to fall below the suburban high-rises so that the light is nothing more than warm refractions from glass and steel.
I am convinced the Earth did spin around us for an indefinite time as we licked cherry off each other’s lips and breathed each other’s air
Something happens when the world becomes small enough to fit only You and Me
There is no periphery
In a dream you are aware and not awake but In Love you are awake and not aware
of anything that is swept up in Time’s current.
There and Then I could touch something and know exactly what it was and I could tie messages to lyrics all by myself. Senses fade as time crosses in front of us.

Now is Now and Time has passed.
Everything now is becoming smooth
Everything Now Is Becoming One Sound
there are no more words to see or hear.
the drill singes open skin below my ear and the streets outside are never paved
the buildings will never be finished. I will only see them ripped open to their powder hearts and wooden veins over and over again.
Loop. I walk from west to east every day and back and on my way I cross the sun.
Something is stuck inside of me. It wants to be secret resting inside of my sternum so that I can Write around it. So long as I don’t know its name it can never be called from within and I can write so many words but still not know how to pull it out.
I think it is the sun. I think it is the sun from the day the world spun around us and we rose up into the sky and the sun came down with us and I think a little bit of that Star entered our mouths and slid down our throats to build a home inside.
Perhaps I am lucky to have the sun inside of me so that I can write and paint and so that I can cry and feel all of the things that are numb when the machine hand of the streets and windows grips us by our necks and presses so hard on the soft spot under our chins. To believe this would make luck akin to numbness.
I am Longing. For what I don’t know, maybe I long for the sun to spill out from my mouth all at once and dance in front of me and slip into the cracks in the floorboards and windowpanes and soak into the ceiling so that I can cry one last time and bid it farewell.
Inside me is a masochist who does not let out the sun. I have tried so many times to reach down my throat and pull her out so that the sun can Choose, but my hands come full of nothing but spit each time.

Every day you come into my vision and I wretch and scream with my eyes wide open remembering you
seeing you in front of me like a memory in stone
You showed me every song that has ever existed and now there is no sound that doesn’t carry part of you
with every swell of your chest a song begins and with every compression it ends and then again and then again
If there is no song without you inside is there any sound that doesn’t float on your breath
If I somehow unlatch myself from your hinges will I have to hold my fingers in my ears and live in silence forever? Maybe that would hurt less than holding on
But then every time I hear a sound I’ll have to reach up and cover my ears quickly and if I don‘t do it fast enough You’ll Scream My Name and those syllables will echo through all the days and reverberate in my dreams and I will NEVER be able to push you out of my sight because you are bigger and stronger than I’ll ever be
The sound of your voice has a thousand shapes and they hide in the voices of the singers of the songs and I know this because I still cry when I hear them.

You have escaped time and sight and sound and you have become an idea somewhere in my veins and no matter where I press or poke I can’t find you. When I think of you there is pressure between my eyes
I am scared that I will never find you again I will never touch you again so maybe I should fold you neatly into Death and forget that she hasn’t taken you yet.
You have wrapped your body all the way around the sun to follow me wherever I go carrying everything I gave you in a wooden box to show me once you catch me. One day I am so scared you will come close enough to tap my back and I will spin to see you open the box and all of the letters and rings will spill out from around a spinning dancer who sings all of the songs that you showed me
and I won’t be able to cover my ears because my arms are around you again.
Who are you? I have forgotten all of the Time that you sucked from me
Who are you? Do I long for something that never happened? Some fleeting moments from under an orange sky? I have forgotten how to pull out my knife and hold it to the throat of Loss
and scream to protect myself instead of only ever screaming onto the bathroom rug while tears paint my face and the floor because Loss is a vile and putrid thing
Who are you? Is it you or me who I remember now? I think it must be me because you can be found and I have been lost
Untwist the Rope of Time and crawl between the strands back to the Only Summer there has ever been
A Knot Before and a Knot After so that we are stuck there sweating under The One Summer Sun. A Knot Before and a Knot After so I can hold my own hands and never will the God of Time grab my ankles and pull me away from you (from me) ever again.
Yes I think it must be me because now everything that I can see slowly peels from my body like wax strips on wet skin and one day I might slip out of my binding into free-fall
I can only remember one time when I was wrapped in an infinite fabric
A circle of thread that held itself together with no beginning or end to fray. I can only remember one time when I was held and it was you who lifted me to the sky to breathe out fear and in the rays of that setting Summer Sun.