Here the wind

Here the wind

the fog nestling in the hills at night

here away from the noise

of neurotic acceleration

here stars

here cool damp night

cold face

behind my eyelids

in the field of dreaming

deep stained flashes of color appear

richer deeper more intense

that the color of the outer world

and waking

somewhere in the night crickets and frogs harmonize their songs

meanwhile I have come back to the page

the fountain pen

blue ink scrawling in waves

across the page

the words bleed into the page

soothing my grieving heart

And the wind comes up

lifting the pages of my journal

a flapping song

that could be bird wings

lifting into the air

as the words come off the metal

a pointed wet geometry

full of conductive fluid water

not present in the electro magnetic frequencies 

emerging from the hard black plastic of the keyboard...

My heart comes back

taking up space

releasing into the chest cavity of flesh and bone

the curtains undulate with the wind

that delights my skin shivering like a fowl

I arrive here on the page

after reading of ouranos

who stuffed his and Gaia's children 

back into the depths of the earth

afraid of the power of their creation 

to protect herself gaia engaged the aid of Saturn

cleaving sky from her breast

cleaving eternal from temporal

space from earth

meanwhile hearing the hum of my voice

I can breath again

as I do when I dance across the land

sure footed arms flying discovering the shape of the aire

around me the shape of the sky I travel through

finding the air in my lungs bouyied up by wing bones

and clavicles embracing the rhythm...

—Lorena