Coffee cups clash
and music plays
in the background:
a rhythmic unfolding,
a geometry of sound
like fractals of the mind.
Voices hushed and hoarse
whispers and clamors
outside the grey street:
Seattle winter.
The siren sings of love.
In the distance I spot a friend
approaching. Movement of souls
learning to know each other.
A ripple made by a rock
in the water,
its expanding concentricity
makes me aware of space.
Magnets pulled by a force
of struggle and pleasure.
The trickle of a bead of sweat
on my skin. A pearl glistens
in the landscape of fine hairs.
Its roundness seeking perfection,
in a precarious second before the tension
gives way, where form
becomes content
and wave is water.
The boundary so fragile,
an ever becoming streamline
that connects me
to a girl in a woman’s body.
In the wide expanse
longing becomes embraced
with its shining newness.
Eyes, arms, lanky legs;
I take it in and want more.
Sharing thoughts, memories,
the feeling of affinity soars.
My heart pounds.
In an attempt to quiet it,
my mind focuses,
observes and flies upward,
over the arc of the horizon.
It swoops with eagle wings
to grasp the essence of its being:
consciousness.
Learning to sip tea. To take it in
slowly. Step by step.
To listen. To hold the other
in your presence, allowing a reflection
to flicker in the mind’s eye.
oona's looking glass 