Inksmith
GREAT!/excerpt
Despite herself, this makes Merry laugh again. Jesus Lord…Christ. You arrive and then you’re gone, that about it? That’s one of my greatest fears about what might be the deal with life, ya know? Just when you get here, you are over and gone…Oh, for godsakes, Merry says.
Yeah, darling, I record the moment of a birthpang leaving behind nothing but spectral feedback and a delightful smell of burning leaves. Oh, and also a sound effect of very distant train whistles.
Merry, like a child, buries her head in her hands, really tickled. Now she peeks up at me. And do they vanish for good?
Ah! damnitall, I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.
A mellifluous flow passes into the corners of Merry’s eyes. She wipes them with the side of her hand. But you will, Lord, you will. .. I just know you’ll figure this out. She winks at me.
When I do, Merry, you’ll be the first–
But you gotta let me get back. I’ll miss your life too much.
I stare into Merry’s crossed blue eyes. I will never lose you, I say…
Merry spreads her legs.
Aftercome, I kissed her flush lips, the two of us done with it, Ourselves in balance between life and death. Having disappeared together and come back. Died a little. Fell silent… and then together returned via a whopping kiss……’Solitude,’ we’d said, ’We will kick your ass,’ and so, for one superb moment, we did just that
I Iove you, I always tell Merry.
So then, with this, at this, this is where Merry, where she just might begin to get quiet; where she just might look around our room, quietly, just to look and be quiet. The way she does when she’s about to make it her room. The way the space then takes on a kind of fog of invisibility, just leaving the room ripe for fetishization. She looks around. She thinks. Leaving only her breathing like a genteel windchime, chiming through the room, chiming through the whole silent house, ringing together with the sleepy, wooly breaths come from Henry and Delly, this ghostless family arising from her own projection; this thrills the shit out of Merry. Every now and then a tear rolls down her cheek. And this quiet of her moment swells her breasts and comes like breath, waves from her slightly open mouth which will cause the hair on my arms to flicker, and she knows that I can feel a distribution of warmth easing through my purifying veins. Heat comes from her soul and all the wonderful shadows of night whirl naturally into our bedroom, and then all around her. I stare at Merry, at her extending night shadows and the highlights of her hazel eyes, staring. Breathing love. Blowing love, and the lyric rhythms of her silence, her silent voice, with her breath and whirl and chime, her sounds that hang and roll in my ear and and Oh, God, is she gorgeous. Her sounds, and the whirl, the softsounds that stay in the ear as the sea in a shell. Merry beside me sharing a wondrous throne in a wondrous land where people love and kiss and stay silently together, holding hands and walking through magic nights.