Saturday, September 29, 2012

Halo Benders (Jittery Joes Edit)

We were always so musical in the way that we did things
Listening to the sound of each others' heartbeats
And trying to play them back to each other in
a way that felt most biomechanically
Blowing wind through our wrists like harmonicas
Bowing our tendons like violin strings
Making music from marrow
Song from sinew
Every so often the notes would drop and fade (pianissimo)
and it was ok because the crescendo would pick back up altogether (fortissimo)
Reconstructing the blueprint of our bass
But even the best laid plans of pianos come undone

The last time the chord struck
Sour over the telephone pole
I knew you were tired
And I was tired too
Trying to drop life
Into suicide eyes
It all just wanted to die
Hang itself from the chain of memory
Crack its neck on the headboard
Land in a bed of mushrooms
Hoping their fungal fingers would break apart
this abomination into something useful
The mercy of mycelia
Looking for redemption in the soil
No longer in angels' wings
No longer trying to jump through halos
Because we kept bending them into prison bars
To hold each other as POWs
In the war we waged against the coming truth

When the flood came we bent our bars into dams
Because we feared the inundation
We didn't want our banks to overflow
And spill out the mouth of the Earth
I don't want to be your Ark.
I cannot carry life.
I don't want to be your Noah.
I cannot build life.
All I can manage is the whale
That will swallow you whole.
But you are far from Jonah.
You are not divinely called
To step into my sea.

It hurt so good sometimes.
To know we weren't numb.
That we could feel the tension
Of each other trying to bend our halos back into compasses.
Pointing in the direction of stars.

They miss us you know?
The way we laid star-crossed among the clouds keeping each other warm
In their radioactive furnaces
Suspended there in the dark waiting for a wish to grant.
A hope to provide.
But instead we are resigned.
They hang ashamed in the sky.
Waiting for someone's hope to catapult them into
Shooting stars
We aren't that different.
You, Me, the stars, and their prophecies.
When it comes down to what we need most deeply.

It is our wish to be fulfilled.

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