by Dan Raphael

the swirling energy inside her clothes, as if her spine extended to the floor,
doppelganging leg fork,    swaddling maelstrom,    corkscrew labia of lapping wave-flames,
a visible perturbation in her eyes \

2 stand-up basses arranging their strings to merge, forget the tuning, no bows, fingers plucking everywhere, rubbing like drum skins, sounding notes i still maintain some grip on
as they infuse back with what she plays on me, hands around spine, eyes zipping me open:
the language of the lengua, tastebuds pulsing sweet mineral candor
stepping into the other dimension that’s stepping into me
the luminous walls are my lung, standing entwined as if gravity went elsewhere,
climbing our visions like headfirst down a complex wall of metamorphic rocks
pressing new buttons to release virtuosities,    fingers with 3 times as many joints,
skin like liquid velvet,    bathing in crema
                    the shrinking together
    as if looking through hundreds of vertical blinds,
            spinning , pulsing from -vex to –cave
        sound emptying room. lung filled with data jungle,
as this minute has been so often:    from suture to aroma to tone from accident or implement

visualizing one card of how many decks    for the color blind    the gluten free
thinking mirrors are doorways    someone will recognize what im wearing
and take me there, feed me til i stop erupting.

why am i the only one who cant sleep in the rain