I’m an object. An object dirty with blood. That creates other objects…
Clarice Lispector, Agua Viva
Night Blood – “Only in Bed ” – (some adjustments midst life and death)
It is the best of times, it is the worst of times…
It is the time of fulfillment, frenzy, dragon smoke and sex.
Of love, Asphalt and astonishment
A cinema of mud and Bone
It is the time of Night Blood…
In the great elastic performance chambers of arterial Muscle, the
restless heart gathers blood unto itself,
a nocturnal nourishment sticky with stories,
desire and truth, creation and death,
a tangle of labored roots.
There are invisibles, objects, shades and shadows, snakes and heights, a fumble of
bodies. Random reports of gasoline angels, rust, fear and elusive paint, demons,
electric scatter and temporary soot. Vaginal salts and brackish memory, sperm and
sand. Blue dread, water, forests and –
beauty
– always out of reach.
asphalt, muscle & bone – The Fat River Hotel – Room 42
©bill hayward 2014
