From Typhon to Echidna

I love the sweeping long lines, haze, mist
Diffusing the whole,
And soft wake of shadows
And to see myself
In you
 
I love the smooth arcs of your
Violence,
Deep swathes, curvatures,
Both metallic
And soft
 
I love you to contradictions
 
As the train calls me
To leave,
With its mournful klaxon
I recall,
I never feel
So acutely alone
As when I travel,
I suppose,
The protection of the familiar
Is stripped away,
Baring the soul
In all it’s terrible cries
Of simultaneity
 
Houses
Are like totem gods,
Some unknown truths
Holding both solace
And menace,
In their unfixed gaze
 
Caught motion, in still life
Holds a kind of mortality defying
Magic
 
Wings still to hard planes,
Fine hairs rise
In petrified forest,
Petals lace their labyrinthine
Chassis
About the stamen’s static
Nucleus
 
Some nights I drown
And rise
In bitter haunts,
Some bile mercury
Trembling
About the aorta
And beveled shores contract
Their woven fibers
Of its immediate periphery
 
And still, some nights
Indeterminable light
Congeals in harmony
With the soft vicissitudes of evening
And the silence holds
It’s pitch and staff,
Against my earlobe
 
And now, before the dawn march
Carries us to the far corners,
Where you do not listen
And I do not speak,
I’ll ask you,
 
Hold back the tides in me,
Fingers over the rents
Where I bleed
And if you cannot
Will not be,
Raise the white sanitary walls,
As a courtesy,
While I weep
In such a well of cruelty,
As a slow cloud’s boredom
Draws a blank trench
Across your brow
And your eyes fall
To the rotating banners on a
Liquid crystal screen
 
Or,
If you’ll dare
The voices of our mutually
Assured transformations,
Caught in the nether
Between,
Man and maiden,
Dragon and serpent,
Climb across to me, here
Break me with wanton collisions, until
I am nothing
But an open eye
Pressed upon the clean, convex
Lens
Between us
 
..
 
 
From Typhon to Echidna
By
Daniel Christensen