Sunday, January 31, 2010

a hemisphere in a head of hair

LET ME SWALLOW swallow swallow in the fragrance of your hair. Let me dunk my whole head in and drink you. Let me dizzy my fingers through your long delicious locks like white silk shakes memories into skylight:

                         If you could see what I see!
                                                              Feel what I feel!  

              Hear what I hear in your hair!

My soul surfs the ripples in the rivers of your perfume like the souls of other creatures might glide along strains of music. Your hair is filled with dreams and rich with sails and masts, is vast with the majesty of bottomless blue oceans.
     In the lagoon of your hair swirls spirit me to a tropical island where the breezes are pungent with the fever of ripening fruit, juicy with the tang of human flesh.
     In the cinema of your hair is projected a movie of a bustling port, thick with melancholy airs, where hearty men from every nation and ships of every shape cut delicate silhouettes, precise and architectural, against the endless flashing and flattering of a summer sky wracked by heat lightning.
     In the caresses of your hair I rediscover those languid days we spent seduced, lengthwise on a divan in the cabin of some sturdy vessel, rocked by the rolling of the sea, among the vases half-filled with flowers and the water-jugs wet with refreshment.
     In the coal oven of your hair I taste the tingle of roasting tobacco and the aroma of opium and the funk of blackening sugar. An azure ray of starlight traces a glare on the silver horizon. Down downy banks I fumble blindly, stumbling drunk on a musky punch of tar and coconut oil. Im mesmerized by the glow of your hair.
     Let me nibble nibble nibble on your heavy black tresses. In my mouth you are elastic, rebellious. It feels like Im chewing on memories.