NaNo(inPo)WriMo #3 – Conjugation


In the night
god’s body swims past
and my cilia, tiny organs which are said
to be 99% less efficient than long legs yet serve
to move me happily enough through this life,
reach out and out and pull
god’s body in and anchor it
firmly to my own

and where we touch our armor
dissolves, our bodies begin to prepare
their generative disintegrations. The many souls
our bodies hold – the soul of the mind, the soul
of the heart, the soul of the blood, the soul
of the ears, the fingers, the tight clusters of nerves
that explode into pleasure – the many souls of our bodies
dissolve into only one soul, each, which is the soul
of the gut, where our animal knowledge breeds rampant
through our lives, and this soul

then divides itself into four pieces and then how slowly,
how exquisitely god’s body and mine slide one piece each
through the dissolution of our boundaries and into the body
of the other where it will join with one piece to become a new whole
that then re-invents each self, sending new code, new waves, new orders,
new breath to each of our bodies and then we part, each utterly,

irreversibly pulsing with what we created together. Now I can choose, can’t I,
whether to stay this being god and my old self created, making copies of copies
of what came from that capture, or whether to signal my cilia
to pull in others to again split into four and share one to make two
who are new. But what, you might ask, of the three not shared, and not
necessary to construction of new bodies? At the moments of separation, before
the holes in borders close tight once more they fly out, they become
poems, or songs, or dance or color, for nothing is wasted
in creation, nothing is extra in this world.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s