May 28, 2007

The act of not-quite-touching-you is alive, radiating and reverberating, not nothing but the absence of nothing. It is easy to stand at the edge and easy to jump, but it takes nuance and subtlety to inhabit the space between, floating in the air, neither left nor arrived, neither come nor gone, neither alone nor entwined.

I wake up, and see you, and rest my fingertips ever so lightly on your back. So lightly only your dreaming self knows who I am.

archive