(On) useless/weird resonance
[retinal impressions of visiting angel]
running water in a dark room in the early early morning,
and we’re trying to gather it in our hands, because our mouths have been full from
holding on to bitter and metallic things.
i offer up a slice to a visiting creature—
it consumes the room in one deep breath, and i follow to its ordained destination.
the nuclear warning system has been sounding for a while.
It’s time to walk down the crooked brick steps and out into the middle of the street to
look at the newborn colors, and at the falling sky.
stirring the steady ocean, we have a gentle collision of dusted wings.
steam rises and settles on the horizon. every body gasps.
we fold inwards until we’ve achieved ungodly density. what would it look like
to become the sum of my atomic components? away from circadian disruption, just a
subtle spinal interference, a thin mesh of my nerves piled in your lap.
there is wind coming off the beach, and crystals in your hair.
you are ambassador of a new mode of being—
we are playing hand games and trading secrets, and i rewind
and replay you like a ghost etched on film.
we had a shared vision of the future —I will be more
like the weaving machine, and you will be the collapsing cell wall
that lets everything in.
i think of you in the morning, when i wake up early
because I want more sun and more time for
the day to expand and contract and expand around me again.
released December 11, 2020
music by Brandon Hurtado
text by Amber Bouchard
art by Liza Pittard