Tuesday, February 03, 2015

MAYDAY MAYDAY... WE MIGHT CRASH THE SHIP

what is the quality of object
that helps one take care with
the course plotted
M. is lodestone or compass
or simply true North
what quality? that helps me
steer myself and not dash this
boat this body on the rocks of
the shallows
she is no object, my person
my love   my beloved
strong and stubborn, ridiculously
practical    emphatically

© Erika Stanley 5.1.14

building new symmetries

the phase of bodies   phrases
caught in a net of moments
in a moment i knew
i loved Claire
but boundless
the ephemera of intimacy
choosing again again again
one two three
in our bodies
my every edge stood alight
light spilling over curve
and sinew the fullness
of bellies stretching uncertain
we bend and kneel to the task
strong   interrupted
cutting our sequences short
circling in tender focused
repose to recompense

© Erika Stanley 1.22.14

lights never seen

gun lake cold and twinkling
new stars older than the
imagination of millennia
our constellation taking shape
around a beautiful tall boy
tender connecting with eyes
closed    feet aching    sides stitched
double and dancing and meeting
and dancing and meeting and dancing
until the night is full of train
sounds again and the surface
of the sky quietly unfolds
to share lights never seen before

© Erika Stanley 11.20.13

new shorn beauty

a morning breathing together
to move this body again
balance and rest
muscle    smell    sinew    reach
quiet
the floaters in my eyes danced
with raindrops on the skylight

© Erika Stanley 11.18.13

opossum funeral

in the garden late the other night
Henry's neck fur stood up
barely a moment of hesitation
in the darkness before charging
against some unknown trespasser
then the motion lights
flooding the yard like thunder
after the frozen scene of
a lightning strike
his shape outlined among the shadows
something in his jaw
unrelenting against my calls
the jet of the hose shot all the
way across the yard

© Erika Stanley 9.03.13

what feeds you

'the food is not even a factor. you have to decide what feeds you before you ever share a meal.' - B.

i'm not hungry   the snack provided
a distraction   the sound of
crunching loud enough to scatter
my thoughts briefly before
i try to collect them again
something to bite into
savory... savor
the ginger ale is not what i
want to drink   too sweet
bubbles wreaking havoc in my gut
but it's in front of me
B. said never settle for the
acceptable stand in
how awful that sounds
to take 'settling for' in on such
a fundamental level
i am hungry
for the press of flesh
toothy conversations
a heady swirl of energy cycling
i am deeply thirsty
for kisses & clear signals
desire like stars shooting across
a dark sky
silence that holds room for
shared breathing & the promise
of more kisses & conversations
i want to be penetrated
to penetrate
with eyes & hands & mouths
& words & breath &
cock & cunt & longing joined
met by connection by another
bright spark singing &
dancing ready to play

© Erika Stanley 8.26.13

Full of Empty of Full

what can i imagine of a life
that isn't the one i'm flying home to
only a kitchen table
light through an unfamiliar set 
of curtains
mathematics of unraveling
what numbers do the words
'i am done' call up
a deep breath
B. holds me near & reminds me
be gentle - you're the only sister i have
unfolding muffled truth
dusting off clarifying questions
narrate actions, live subtitles
so that my signals    my intentions
carry clear out over the canyon
& reverberate back again
like a bell
a sound of resonance
the sound of compassionate truth
unconditional
-   -   -
we avoid small positive gambles
to our detriment - because we are 
loss averse. you win some. you lose some.
the sense of loss looms larger 
stings more even than doubled gains
my big losses are old
rare events over-weighted
i need to let go of my life
as it is now    with both hands
so that i can greet the 
garden unfolding around me
life beyond the wall & the question mark
the force field retracted
this was a net positive
this was a winning proposition
to talk about cutting losses
without her feels gross though.
but to consider it together 
feels like something i'd like to do
what am i talking about anymore
concentration destroyed by a simple
means of address   Gents... something to drink?

© Erika Stanley 8.26.13

Tender

what courage & trust to launch our
bodies upside down
hands planted    legs kicking swift
floating up    reaching stillness
the flows of our lymph reversed
blood pouring into the head
i seek it over & over
a moment of quiet as my ears
fill with my pulse the fullness
of my heart blanketing the
chatter of the mind    completely
briefly

how can tears move first against
gravity    welling up & up
before spilling over the edge of
surface tension    of propriety
of our fight to hold them back
to keep the scales of daily life
in place    obscuring the prospect
of seeing of being seen
i let them out early with you
no guise    no stop on my candor
so many tender places
at the surface the silent scream    a memory of
keening    unfolding    opening
as i watch bamboo shadows
redraw your face in each moment

© Erika Stanley 8.22.13