(2011, Inner Islands)
RIYL = Eluvium, Stag Hare, Julianna Barwick
Peacetime transmissions burn soft white flame—flames—in my shoulder muscles, the stretch of my back, the hollow pathways in my bones, encompassing, consuming, luke-warm flames (warmth-not-torture), white—white’s important to note—removing spirals of stress from my hips, untangling, flames you can cup in the palms of your hands, legged, walking through barriers like skin, like consciousness, pivoting in positions outside my body, a gravity to me, before walking back in: curious, exploring, improving blood flow, digestion, camping out in my lungs, talking, consuming toxicity, breathing life into open spaces, into my animal organs, each now with it’s own purr and limbs—my organs—all friends with the soft white flames, the flames leading them, out to sea, a different sea, soft-white-flame-friendly sea, me floating down at a measured pace, organs and all (skin being the largest organ), to the sea-floor, to walk it out there, white sea flames walking with me, on the ground, in the water at my waist, my shoulders, my head; larger sea flames appear, eggshell, hippo-sized, whale-sized, and we continue on, our joints loose (flames with joints?), further and further on, without end.
