From the Horse's Mouth

explode and fade

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on July 6, 2010

Silver sparks flash against black

from that rhinestone belt slack around Nuit’s hips.

Dances enchant, warp sensation, dissipate flesh, resurrect spirits.

I prefer to be the dancer as opposed to the spectator.

But here I am,

Here are we all,

only able to look up to the Unknown,

necks strained, throats exposed, eyes rolled back…

waiting for the transitory awe, joy and electricity

in those short bursts of fire in the sky.

And as quickly as they come,

the color fades into smoke skeletons

hanging in the air far longer than the duration of their life.

We watch the air molecules carry those ghosts,

anticipating the next dazzling, fiery release.

Humans and explosives: simpatico

By the end of the affair, Nuit is smoking.

We return our eyes to our terrain,

and our feet take us Home.

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