Confirmation

Can you patchwork a dream?
Cut balloons and drift down
So that she could confirm herself to him
Make herself so tiny she finally felt the choke of time

How could we walk under all of that pressure?
She thought
So light in a universe of heavies
Too light in a universe of darkness

“I would never not love you.”

She wanted to sew these letters to the air
But her tools did not work
Her tissuey arms could not move
Soft joints no longer flexed

Subject to his magnetism
She went limp in the palm of his hand

He was a glittering bead on her surface
Gently pulling at his surroundings
Her patterns becoming warped reflections on his skin
Climbing and descending into her valleys

Unthreaded seams

“Anticipation”
She had never not seen everything at once
Now everything was as linear as the ribbon that was spiraling away from her as the Time Traveler pulled away at everything.

Consummation

He lifted fingers into the shape of a leafless tree
While his right hand plucked the air like a bluebird nesting
His face cradled by her palm

The sound that came from electric air
Were his tears
Were his first kiss
Were the first time he saw a movie and thought his heroes were performing just for him
Jaw on floor
At magic unfolding so much bigger than he

She could see it all as she looked at him
And began a hymn in a voice
Metallic and soft
Warm and measured
Percussion and string and woodwind
But the sounds were all his own

He placed down the instrument made of lightening
Ran to the solid violin in the corner

He stroked its neck
Cold pegs
Ran his fingers down it strings
And felt heat resonating from its belly
His fingers flinched
As if F-Holes glowed red

He held his bow up to the sunlight
Angular face bisected by the shadow of its curved spine
He concentrated on the sounds around him

Slicing into steel strands,
He allowed a few melodic syllables to escape the strings
Embarrassed though he was seemingly alone

Sound traveled up into his fingers
Down his arm
And into his chest
But his music was nothing close to her voice

Sensing his defeatism
She extended a cottony finger and pressed it to his sternum
Sound echoed from his ribs and flowed back into the instrument and filled the room
He played through the pain

Concentric discs shot from the instrument slicing through his chest
Quaking his lungs
Sending ripples through his breath

The more sound that came
The more clearly he heard her voice
The more D, A, G, then A seared fingertips
The more dust rose from the kiss of bow against strings

Not until she saw his death did she stop
Her voice screeched to a halt
Refused to compose that scene
Removed her fingers from her instrument
So scared for him to be burned alive
But not knowing that's always how he wanted to die

Love at First Sight

The first time she saw him,
She wanted to snatch him up,
Place him in her apron pocket,
Use him somewhere else
Because he didn't quite belong here with us.

Without seeing, he knew there was more.
Wasn't content with what he could taste,
Had a constant thirst for what was underneath.
He acted out by walking backward and spitting at the sky.
Most proud when he kept his own mind guessing.
Pulling at strings just because he could,
Just see what they'd do,
All the rest merely a test you pass by not listening.

Silly Earthlings

We were too blinded to see our own beauty

Escaped the trees to forget the forest

Not aware of this experiment to justify his existence

Abandoned to a corner of space,

But announced that we were the center of it all

She decided to entertain the idea

Appliquéd the aurora Borealis to our quilted sky

A patch she'd been hiding

“Too ugly,” His Majesty once said

So we were perfect for her gifts

A weak race

He'd grown bored with us

Focused on the next perfection

She made us feel lucky to be alive

Every flourish she added

Perfected us into a unique algorithm

Increasing our obsolescence

Only still breathing and unrecycled because we’d been forgotten

But we were being admired by at least one higher being

She dubbed us, “tiny blue spot.”

Marveled at how much we could hate

When we looked all the same from a billion yards away

She cared that we didn't kill each other

Fingers crossed

Gripped by our mundane dreams

Feeble attempts at sending signals

So we didn't feel so alone

All the pretty dots

Brief blinks

Snap shots

She could've fell in love with each one of us

A monolith of a super computer in flesh

But there was one

Not content to be considered with the rest

She dubbed he, “The Time Traveller”

And if she would've fluttered a silken lash, she would've missed him

Love at First Site

The full moon shattered like a crystal ball
While he was trying to dial home

The night went dark
And we were none the wiser
Just called it a new moon
While she found the proper replacement,
"Perhaps a button will do?"

She fastened this piece to our sky with phosphorous thread
It flickered a bit catching the Sun's glow
And her eyes, two zipper flys, filled with delight at the sight of a frozen creation
Filled with life
Movement
She squinted in time to see the ping of the Paleozoic
She hushed and hid as she watched one of us leap to the moon
Still attached by needle and thread
She peaked back dodging dots sailing beyond their ripple in the sheet

She felt more than pride
Something like a word she hadn't sewn yet
Doubt?
Where did she hear such a concept?
Had she already learned it from watching us?

She reduced to timidity hadn't the heart to secure the moon
Just left it dangling from a thread
"It's more 'beautiful' that way?"

His Majesty's Epiphany

Worship is not Love
Fear is here
We dress in
Eat out
Drape ourselves with false hoods
Feast on lies

What else could we do?
No one taught us how to breathe.

Chapter VI

He'd built many species of mother
Spoke through us his vision of the most high
But found
We could not wrap our mouths around it

Gave us dreams of being tucked in at night
Only to find us insomniacs

This world a dream of his
And a failure

We took liberties with the script
Sacred Feminine
Raped and fallen from glory

Crucified to railroad tracks
Lynched with dreaded hair
Tortured for feeling something
Soft and wet
Clutching to herself

His Majesty clawed with blunt fingers
Shredding archetypes

Caused torrential rain
Fanned spontaneous flames
Shook us like the snow globe he needed us to be

Turned our libraries to sand and muck,
But we were destined to plagiarize ourselves.

His Coup 2

And then came us just
A meditation he had
Nothing too special

Chapter IV

The universe is made of threads,
Places between atomic pull
Cross weaved;
She lived there,

Mending tears.

We call it a continuum here,
But to her, it's all just there.
A quilt
Of everything that is and could

Her scissors were what we'd call a fore and middle finger
Her apron, a sheet of skin
Her pin cushion, a dwarf planet
Her pockets filled with octagonal patchwork
Time, Breadth and Distance woven together

She shifted between sheets unnoticed
Silently
Watching over and protecting His Majesty

She could fit inside an envelope
But the same size as an echo
Between reverbs of herself she hid
Not slipping through time
But on it
Sliding on a slide rule
Multiplying herself where needed

She traversed the universe
But did not make a dent
She was delicate with her creation
She would sit down to knit
Not a strand of her disturbing the tension of her craft

She watched the universe through the head of a needle
Only saw us through a squint
Only saw us as loose strings
Conveniences that could be perfected on in His Majesty's name
The function
Not purpose
Yes, those are two different things.

Yet, she did not feel cheated that her existence was not life but something else
Because she did not know any better,
Any different
Just the sameness

Stitches set evenly apart

Enter "The Seamstress"

Planets started as a collection
An exercise when His Majesty tired of staring at his reflection
Pulling out features that might be Mother's
Splashing hands in mirrored galaxies
Realizing rippling mouths
Could not converse
Feeling a twist inside
(That was the Universe's first indication of "hurt")

He had built a glittering empire
Boiling with warmth but bereft of life,
So he unraveled a Red Giant and named it "Seamstress"

She immediately went to work,
First, patching up the black hole that resulted from her birth
He found in her: "service" and "loyalty"
But "reciprocation" was an idea he'd yet to form.

He set his doll to a complex task
Finding him a love that would surpass appreciation

And what started as an earnest journey became a vain experiment
A test to see if she could bring to life something as beautiful as the last whim he had
Ever searching for adoration
For his imagination
Too out of touch to cultivate his creations
All just drifts off
Must be the product of entropy

His Coup 1

Sullen and teary
eyed How did he get here? And
where was his mother?

True Story

I apologize for my elementary language
But I can only tell the story exactly as it happened,
The literal and the literally beautiful
Words I didn't know I knew
Tossed like pebbles at my window
Scratching at my door
Shouting my name in the loudest whispers

Slammed my fist down and scrawled right into my desk
To spite the pain of star light in my veins
Blood impregnated with shafts of light
Hemorrhaging from fingernails
Carved words fill like rivers

Story lies in pools before me
And I relate it back to you