cosmic causeries

7/28/2019 cosmic causeries

1/20

cosmic causeriesby glenn fang


2/20

cosmic causerieswritings in consciousnessby glenn fang

messagestoanonymous.tumblr.comtwitter: @cloudstains

2013

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0Singapore License (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0 SG)


3/20

somnolent bones tuck into the blanket that is your skin: it falls asleep,while the tessellation of stardust in you stays up through the night with me.we toyed with our imaginations, and ended up with dreams that in the morning, after you left materialized only as words.


4/20


5/20

a journey along your spine

tracing your scoliotic spine, hoping that i dont lose you

to the alternating hollow recesses,while meandering, navigating.

a one lane. a two way.

only two ends in sight.

to your head or your hips?

or to both, and also to

the universe in between?

not all destinations show.

no cartographer has mapped

this plentiful expanse in you.

i humbly attempt your moon.craters spell revelation doom.


6/20

break away

we expend our oxygen tanks

as crude propulsion

in an attempt to reach the moon,

but we fall short of the Krmn line,

and below critically low levels.

the auroras over Pite

are an electric chaos

that we have no part in;

a breath-taking daze

as we watch the lissom hues

slither with refulgent grace.

there are astronauts

with a grandstand view

freely snapping away.

there are astronauts outside

cutting their tethers.

we all want to float,

we all want to drift away

slowly,

but we're fallingback down(again)-


7/20

hurry

every morning i walk my terrier through a winding half-mile,

but i think he's the one walking me:

he's always in a sprightly haste.

i don't know how many tail wags

i miss in between slow, drowsy blinks.

elsewhere, the earth is walking her moon,

both zipping around their own usual orbit.

in the city, the suited adults manoeuvre sidewalks,

dispensing brief greetings, sparse on chatter.

punctuality is a battle through suitcase-wielding phalanxes.

overlooking the bustling crossroads, a greyed man sits,

stoned from cigar compounding existing inertia.

limbs in inactivity, mind far from monotony,

slowly drifting towards a familiar wraith

in a different hurry: the one for reunion.

i think about us and wish the same.


8/20

distant

every meteor shower calls you for a night outdoors, and every shooting star gets a wish from you.

consequently wayl aid by a universes worth,

who wants you to wish on them.

this is some starry business, and

everyone wants a part of the lucre.

the stars are let inon more secrets than i am

while i empty every last drop of my heart

online, to strangers on the other side of the globe.

i guess we feel more comfortable when things are distant,

where we're safe from the immediate aftermath;

and i tell myself it's the simple reasonas to why we've grown so far apart.


9/20

astronomers

everyone talks about the splay of freckles across the bridges of noses

and likening them to constellations

we've past that stage early.

here we are, way afterthe jaw-dropping first glimpses

familiar skins comfortably taut

like accustomed paint drying on walls.

we commune about our mostobscure celestial objects:

the specks of caf au lait spotsscattered around our bodies,

like the one shadedunder your left breast,

and the faint five around my thighthat form the points of a star.

our perusals are unfolding lessons;

knowledge bandwagons and pours

from the soft Braille of goose bumps,

divulging our innermost impressions.

we are astronomers in our own right,

answering the questions of our own universe.


10/20

afterlife

post-bloom corpus withers and curlstightly around the scythe: not by choice,but in adherence to various physical lawssurrounding contortion; the rules of the game.bleeding, life waning to pallidity.

an egalitarian lover picks it up

and presses it between an abundanceof life, thriving in the microcosm of prose.as an inhabitant, she breathes immortalitythrough its vascular bundlewhile delicately tracing the worncontours of each dried petal.

and i want to believe in the same afterlife.


11/20

altruistic moon

dusk, and the moon gets to work after putting everyone to sleep.

dormir, dormir, dormir .

the transverse of moonlight

rouses waves, slithering up

on to gentle shores

the shore of every one reposed.

swash electric serenades,

backwash blankets from bodies.

bare are these vessels so weathered;

the cratered moon plasters with kisses;

bleeding excessive silver dust wont kill.


12/20

destruction

send me an escadrille of airplanes

filled with your ink as ordnance;

messengers-cum-hesitant kamikazes.

they circle in a holding pattern

until they're all but just

fragmented ballistic patterns on my palms.

the only intact remnant is a

black box recording of everything

we've said to each other:

from the laconic shy greetings

to the obligatory verbose apologies

to complete silence.

the stars are searching for another to fall

destructively and irrevocably in love with:

never able or wanting to break off, and having

to drift alone in boundlessness ever again.this is the persistence of universe we don't have.

we drift apart from the epicentre of destruction.


13/20

wake

leave me to wander

across the continents of my mind,performing a grim cartography

of tragedies.

trace an isopleth

with contour intervals indicated

for the piles of expended mistakes.

i've no aerial view to do a good job;

I'm still discovering the wreck as i go, but

at least i'm trying to organize my mess

rather than simply

glorifying them as abstract art.

it takes a sadist to pluck beauty from disasters.


14/20


15/20

solitary musings

i ramble offhand about every

passing and lingering thought;

the xeric silver moon listens to me

just to purloin the

vapour laced in my exhales;

the eroded kisses on her

cratered curvaturemirrors mine.

my shadow in abeyance:

he builds a bridge to

a lightless cave hole under the tree

and creeps away from me, into it;

settling in for a comfortable,

prolonged slumber.

daybreak will not

come anytime soon.

soporific lantern lines of words

lulls the universe to sleep.

i spend my nights awake,

pondering, trying to answer

the questions you left

with your absence.

thoughts are fractals,

and darkness can get darker.


16/20

eclipses

lustful apparitions coast

in the depths of an oceanic night.

arcane desires occult

the dim glow of twilight tungsten,

plunging into Cimmerian totality

an alignment to behold.

individuated by vanishing horizons

and under a perfect guise,

sails flutter freely in rousing storms;

spines hold out through rough kisses

and rind, from the claws of taloned fingers

until ships founder.


17/20

growing up (apart)

the delicate morning breeze

disentangles a kite,caught on the tree for months something

even the strongest storms couldn't do.

a butterfly waltzes with it,

diffracting sunlight through

stained glass wings,

ruffled dried leaves joining in;

reminiscent of a dilapidated

playground and the frolicking kids

who've since grown up.

they play with bills, not blocks,

and cut deeper scars.

smoothened rocks lay reposed

on the shore of the sea we shouted

all our burdens and promises to.

they've begun to crack, and i wonder

if our words have since drowned.

moving out and away by ourselves

to places beyond where

our fathers used to drive usis the true transition to adulthood.

we echo goodbyes

from diametric ends

of our new worlds.

they brush shoulders midway

and crumble to naught.


18/20

esteem

you chained your insecurities to a sturdy tree

and threw the key out of its reach.

standing at a distance, you watched

relieved,and slightly smug

as it tries in vain to get back into your head.

left to die, you went for a shower

in the lonely oceans

whose contents you wholly loved;

emerging with dripping wet

summer gold hair,

but you couldn't care less.

heart strings tugged,

drawing wide, deceptive seines.

examining your haul; newfound

expectations sifts out the bad catch

of which I'm a part of; you threw me back,

tangled to your primal words.


19/20

our warmth on greedy conductors

cold finds its way and slithers up

from under sleeves

for embrace.

it argues with the poised air

underneath insulating layers,but bickering wears down to a

unifying equilibrium.

our overlapping legs, slotted bodies;

steadfast with dulcet words,

hesitant with actions.

ardent bulbs singe the algid air,

while veins threaten

to snap like frozen twigs.

we put our fingers over torch lights

skin illuminated red

tracing round contours

with pilfered warmth,

dither evident.

we squandered our own

on the wrong people.


20/20

self

i no longer have to wake up to the garish

incandescence from the toilet at 3 a.m. in the morning;

nor do i have to sleep with blankets on.

i am no longer a slave of the tolls of distance,spending our time apart trying to bring us closer

using all (im)possible means.

there's a sweetness that is quite like yours

from tying fresh cherry knots with my tongue.

i still get the same little scrapes.

electric hums are as rhythmic

as your reposed heartbeats,

and my ears become accustomed, too.

Decembers spent supine on cold duvets;

my descending winter exhales

are quite like your detached breaths.

i've grown to love only the touch

of my own hand on my skin.

a healthier addiction:

more sufficient, less dependent.

cosmic causeries

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