It's a frost morning in Maine and the Atlantic, one big blue hound, stiffening its coat, stretching moon soaked skin taut. It's that darkening stare right before the lunge. At the cafe a man orders hot coffee with cream. The river that divides my town from his is devoid of seals today. We all prepare for the eclipse carnival in our own ways. My house emptied out of lover and dog for the next few days like lost marbles on wood, I wonder, did we ever belong here on earth at all... i feel it, those all engorging deep sea flesh, suspended, unblinking, enough to crumple the world's tallest disaster, it feels too much to say yes when what i mean is yes, of course, take me into yours
me, little beast and you, alien, breathtaking, a chamber tunneled into my own heart, in the shape of you, in eternity, here we are back at the square, blinded, eyes turned inward, depthless beyond measure looking up up up
Breakfast
by Jacques PrévertHe poured the coffee
Into the cup
He put the milk
Into the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
Into the coffee with milk
With a small spoon
He churned
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He emptied the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He lighted
One cigarette
He made circles
With the smoke
He shook off the ash
Into the ashtray
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
He got up
He put on
A hat on his head
He put on
A raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Into the rain
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
And I buried
My face in my hands
And I cried
next week, in fact, will not look like the last
xxo,
s
J’adore