a fragment from Copper Stories
humor me
do you want me to
spill my fluids
more
so that you can read
my mind like a book
& taste my body like
peaches, and other
seasonal fruit,
plums
I will lick my fingers for you, but I can’t
make them stop moving––
the atoms vibrate,
you know
that, we all know
that
so, will you check my frequency?
will you check the arch of my back when you enter me, and then the curve of my ass pressing into your groin?
do you think I have a split mind?
split mind
double half,
tied in part to the heart, in part to the brain because we (= you + I (or something between our
selves)) all know that the mind is however softly attached to the body. Licking the flesh.
lining why
upon seeing these two words, because I misread my own handwriting, do I choose one over
the other?
what points to the touch of our soul?
when language becomes omnipresent
and the world of
objects falls away
is there a word for the full nothing of Zurbarán’s black backgrounds, or Kay’s dream depths?
blue sigh
a let go
pulled back
part way, half a
face
a close
reach
finger to eyebrow
following your face lines
unmasked,
we are a touch
which is your body
the one side of your face
(one of many)
is also my body
I am rendered through your body
am outside myself,
in need more to be alone
to not disappear
but…
slowly unfold
to refold
to not reveal
to rope parts of my soul as the world keeps spinning
as your heart keeps pumping
as your mouth keeps breathing
como tu corazón sigue amando
como tu boca sigue amando
often the difference between layers is indistinct, they are not meant to differentiate but to
hold––sometimes all of us. The sediments of Earth. When you look at the stars and believe in
their light, you believe in a current history. The past is ever now. It is a matter of moving
through instead of to things, coiling a memory
a mind sense
think of our fingers entwined
no space in between
though still at a distance
moving through & becoming between skin, sex, the unspoken, good sins, a
sense of self welded by someone else
moving as multitude of being human.
Photo by Isabella Rozendaal
Lara Schoorl is a poet, curator and art historian from the Netherlands and lives in Los Angeles. She is the publicity manager at The Green Lantern Press in Chicago and works at the Museum of Jurassic Technology and Hat & Beard Press. Her recent writing can be found in The Conversant, The Huffington Post, Tique Art Paper, University of Arizona Poetry Center Blog, The Los Angeles Review of Book, and the anthology Sisternhood. She is a co-author of the end of may.
