2012 day 19 | grrrrr. she usually talks to me

in her quiet language as I stitch. she usually tells me where to take her. she's directed a bit, but not how to complete her. and she is screaming with her silence now. but i can't seem to see her and take her there. perhaps that I've dreamt her already dis-posed. oh stymie! she lacks her usual oomph and tension. she had me at her floating tabletop ends and then slipped away. oh double stymie and deep low grumbling grrrr.

she is lacking a gushing force of downward flow! she needs to flow even more than float. it just means undoing tomorrow and whipping out the scissors. frightening as there will be no command-z, no undos, once I break out the scissors, she'll be different! need to trust forceful downward flow over float instinct!

tonight I revisit her source
(poem like process thingy written fall 2011).

I dissolve my fabricated chairs

I have this table
bare laid built of soul
one where I repeatedly
in my recesses
draw those I love

I have them here
against their spoken wills
as I awaken I latch on to their stay
naked in heart speaking pleading
I hear my own whines

they pushed back a bit ago
not righting their chairs
nor to draw up again
yet their memory flattened
I strap upon these seatings not their own

this morning with usual effort
i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with straps of intimate mind musings

i set afresh the table
spilling it with sun risen scents
of just turned soils
i glide my hands
furrowing rich long runners
where water from spilled crystal seeps still
and the sun's glance splinters gracefully
across the richness piled warmth

i flare my nostrils
with the fertile ripeness
await in acceptance of unacceptance
listening even now again
for the ever drifting scents
of the emergent

i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with my hands deep amid turned soil
again

---

key phrases or gestures to capture with tubular force:

I have this table
bare laid built of soul

BARE LAID BUILT OF SOUL

naked in heart speaking pleading
I hear my own whines

NAKED PLEADING

sun risen scents
of just turned soils
i glide my hands
furrowing rich long runners
where water from spilled crystal seeps still
and the sun's glance splinters gracefully

TURNED SOIL

GLIDE

FURROWING LONG RUNNERS

SUN's GLANCE SPLINTERS