Remember last summer ?
We were obsessed with
Burroughs.
Anything familiar,
the sound of far off thunder
close enough to subdue
the mad-paced hours.
Something inciting,
like a strike of lightning
the odor of combustion
ready to ignite.
Everything electric
that made us come alive.
Our hearts caught between
whale song and sigh,
spontaneous thunder
with intermittent quiet,
sporadic as a summer storm.
Leonid Afremov “Rains Rustle”
You are my obsession
undulating waves of fixation
that can not be restrained.
What I know of you
I have learned through osmosis
the taste of ozone I crave
like breathing air.
Beauty only knows to
be beautiful, send me a
signal through the blackout.
Take my hand and let
me land in your warmth
for I am shivering.
It is always raining here,
I am nothing but precipitation
slipping down your skin.
This is an entire album…you might want to stop it at 4:24.
Most of us have experienced it.
Unrelenting obsession that defies reason.
Denying its existence we shut down
its pathway, deprive it of oxygen,
shiver in the dark only to discover
it thrives on the night beneath
translucent veils that ignite
and inflame the fire of desire.
