I mean: It is the impact of speaking to you again, now you are dead.
Strands of your hair against my skin and petrol fuming. A hole
in the windscreen and your empty seat. Blindness
after the on coming light. I mean: There was this accident.
I woke with images in my fingers: your bent shadowface with in my spiral print.
Blood offered a mirrored surface. I watched your reflection dry
into non being are you listening? I would sing to you but do not have the breath.
Would you listen then? Move your eyes again?
My heart is compressed chambers, flooded by collision: the desire for movement
at speed. The bend came with rushing light, windscreen beckoned: last threshold
first flight, launch velocity reached in an instant you parted glass aperture
for moon seen in red blue red blue red blue lights,
light my heart from inside: it is far too dark in here.
A tyre spinning against the blown out sky holds my attention.
Bright animals come with sand for this new ocean floor.
The sea withdrew tomorrow left me stranded, took you.
I mean: There was this accident. Everyone woke up dead, not everyone woke up
up dead. There were lots of dead. I mean: up side down fast sparks lifted
from my hair. Up side down glass shifted. Up side down arms dangled
hands puffed up, swollen with blood and head. My head was full blood.
Too full blood in side out. Too much blood came out, out came too much up side
down me up side down you out side down looking with dead sheep eyes wide open wide.
Are you listening? I mean: There was this accident.
Bright animals are cutting my frame do I exist in their world
of breathe breathe breathe? My flesh sack lured into space by gravitational pull
of bright moons, the blatant scope of the sky an irrepressible expansion.
Stars shed skin across a car's underbelly: exhaust, suspension, drive shaft.
I orbit. Time reflects off moving parts, a relative perception, light's receding deflection:
drive exhaust shaft suspension
I orbit. Hear the human watch garden: billions of ticking time pieces craving
union. A breathing plantation of gilded gold cogs chewing time.
I orbit. See a distant rotation: red blue red blue red blue lights,
light my heart from inside, Mother it is far too dark out here. I orbit
your empty seat speaking my on coming blind ness
your stranded hair fuming petrol through a void in the windscreaming
are you listening? I mean: There was this accident.
A Void in the Windscreaming
1 April 2010