Writing Experiment #3 from the inspirational notes of Dead Can Dance - "Agape".
For Jeff's version, go Here.
Her ~ whirls her hips in motions only when the soul abandons ego
smooth wooden train tracks with extra curve segments in which to keep the maze continuous
kinetic between offerings of potential
incense picks up every note from the floor up, carrying all for the offering
as high as a stream may go before splitting off into ribbons of goulash
Eyes shining with an impenetrable completeness, thereby confiding a steely nothing
while she pulled the translucent scarf delicately and deliberately
over her lips
He ~ has a mind only for the table at this moment
sweat decorates his forehead, receiving the gift of color
from the enchanted lights and reflecting it back
in a million tiny hairpin fractures of illuminance
a weakness for the color of the Rocky Mountain sky
causes his gaze to flinch - split a second into 50 - unnoticed by other
minds of the table, those who not so much shake hands
but hold them to keep occupation
for idle hands may change feet into the wings of Icarus
in case of a synapse gone glorified
A plummage of smoke exits, orderly from his lips
drifting to mingle with the incense; an odiferous union
He won’t be enraptured by this boiling, fierce scarf;
so tender, a butterfly would hold it prisoner to the ground
But he is.
Her ~ whispers and the heat of breath are close
would she acquiesce?
She sees him in the most undisclosed hamlets of her mind
for months, her breast rises and falls quickly, sudden inhalations
deep, her mind eventually fading off to a calm, light rest before awakening
and then she remembers
Yes
Him ~ The tinkling of beads as they fall into one another, strung from the ceiling
applauds behind him as he is led to her delicious prophecy
the buttons glide slowly, coaxed by gentle, warm fingertips
Rocky Mountain Skies lean above him, as he lies down
his breath, long and deep, reeks of dishonor and weakness
Her ~ standing behind his pillow cradled head
flexibly bends forward, tiny thin medallions moving in unison
calm as her hands remove the scarf, languidly grazing his skin with it
her lips, proximal, without touching, pass over his
she uses two soft hands to control flow
silk wraps around him, a lifetime in every skilled motion
medallions frantic, curves and ampleness obeying
gravitational precept
He ~ silk pulls the lifeforce from every pore
her blue accouterment shivered onto the floor
her drowsy deliberate touch
and he bursts into flames from the inside,
the howl of all that has ever been pulled
from the absolute core
Her ~ Sobs moisten the shadows of ecstasy
open mouths begin the parting process
she removes his hand from her hip
and fills it with blue silk
***
He ~ can no longer live without
but must endure the time
takes the plate handed to him
and then the extended hand, as the clock turns on itself
modestly hiding all numbers
SHE ~ secretly savors that
impressions are more than the table
more than the agreements for the means
more than those ghastly silent signatures for
paper gains and games
SHE ~ lies him down
a primitive detection, a pheromone she wordlessly demands to absorb
her working hands slip deep, deep into his pocket
holding his stare, slowly pulls out rapturous
blue silk
He ~ cannot read her
and lies on his back, mutely anticipatory
SHE~ inhales the distinct scent between his neck and shoulder
pressing closer to him they slowly writhe
Releasing him from the confinement of zippers and buttons
she delights in the feel of him wrapped in the scarf
indulges in his loss of advantage, control, soul
she knows he soon is about to betroth her supernovas, comets
falling stars
rhythmically... lightly, she traces the sides of his body
arms lovingly slide above his head
and down
SHE ~ hears the beginning of a promise
tightens blue silk around his neck
clenching for every last drop
as the clock tips sideways
sprinkling numbers all over the floor
