stuttered exhaled whisper

it will happen. but it doesn't even matter if something comes of this. something already has. something other-worldly. i don't need to see or hear or touch it. what difference would holding it in my hands be anyway. just a physical testimony that something was there that i knew already was. but it would still shake and reverberate in my bones to hold it and for that my body would be grateful to the earth and to itself for being able to feel it.
the infinite distance of even the smallest of measures. a quarter-inch contains infinity. down into the nothings. spread out into everything. time immemorial in a second. the cosmos in dust. your love in me and mine in you. a shadow and a specter and an apparition and a revenant. the way air is always a singular entity. into my ear in starts and fits and becomes a part of me. it will happen.

fragment no. 2

i want to know you. take that word to its extreme. spread it out and use it to close in the seemingly infinite distances that separate even the closest of people. to both of us look down into an abyss of ennui and paralysis, languor and lassitude, and know that we dont have to be down there but if we ever want to we can and we’ll do it together. know you.

theres a sunlight poking over an empty ridge and fanning out, moving in and closing. the air is cool before it and might should be even after it. tuck yr head down and walk parallel to the border. meet you in 15 minutes