Leather soft from the haunch taut, aromatic rich, reflection pool deep, New Orleans smoky where curve rides curve and hours seem like minutes and what is light grows dark. Wanna come sit for a spell?
Perhaps.
Ride the ride of riders ridden, rode as hard, rode as wet, rode as chaps ride the range wearing stars in stirrups and stars on their chest, riding to ride, clean air and water cool, pure, before the hoof and hide, before the feather and scale. Come, ride in time to my warm hand, red as rouge, baton firm surveying the spread, wide horizon, undulating in the morning waves. Settle into my saddle as dew into the leaf, nestle my horn with your lariat. Lasso my girth, ham heavy, water table woman, fed for the winter, bred for the table, raring hair and eye of coruscating blaze. Come, gallop my waves of whey, washed in stone, dunes of cloth, shadows upon the wall of blushing wax, flickering glances. Speak to me with digits farm worn and sweat the sweat of salt earned in the wages of birth giveth and death taketh. Ride as hope rides before the storm, your breath the gale upon my throat, wash my lobes.
4 comments:
Oh my.
What a storm of imagery you have created here, instantaneous heat, like stepping out from a air-conditioned airport having come from the winter to the tropics, sights, smells, colours vivacious, lush. :-D <- that is for airport and air-conditioning, but nevertheless the point is still that this piece is overwhelmingly figurative. I love New Orleans smoky and the thoughts conjured when I read Come, ride in time to my warm hand I best not describe. :-D Alliteration increasing, keeping time rather with expression, of word and of the heart beat in receipt of painted stroke upon stroke. Gorgeous, sumptuous, luscious piece of writing, those words chosen for richness, monopolizing roundness of sound as well as meaning, just three simple ones, each of yours have those qualities.
Ms Storm, I kinda liked this post too. :-D
This is as close to stream of consciousness as you're about to see from me. Writing just to write, rolling in the joy of language. As always, thank you for the very kind words. :-)
wow, what a ride that seems...that is poetic and musical and sensuous and exhilarating all at once! :)
Mona, the more I sit with this piece, the more I like it; and I usually don't much like most of what I write. This piece seems different and I'm not sure why other the the sense of complete uninhibitedness that it was written. I was writing without any end or need to satisfy any thing. Just writing, not conscious, writing for the joy of it, writing for myself, playing with words as colors, as finger paint.
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