Seven dates with breath 7th * 11/29/13

Seventh date

Oh breathe, one right after another rapidly, 

and breathe some more.

Melodious breaths and breathe, on and on.

I feel like wind in my throat

is my invisible laughter.

And when I am this spirited,

I find my fingers tickled

in an electrical socket out of frame.

I have buoyant innocence

that peers over the fence

at my brackish cynical practices.

I want to gain a residency

other than familiarity. 

I want to be immaculately bliss-cellular.  

I want to ooze out of me,

a levity of sustaining grace.

I want to be in the time before

my knowledge as a functionary.

I want the practice of defiance

stricken from my core.

I want my pockets filled with these

how-we-are-with-each-other-before-words coins

so that I can give em and lose em

and trade em and wink with em

and walk down dark alleys dropping em,

every step of the way.

I see us all

as if we are helium balloons on singular strings.

Each of us, somehow tethered and heart-felt

in the tugging and nudging

from within the constant falling-up. 

I see us all as embrace,

each of us as separate parts

of one collective, massive, irrational grin . . .