From
David Still
<ds@davidstill.org>
To
Barry Lipschutz-Perry
<lipschub@seas.upenn.edu>
Re:
Psalms
MESSAGE
Barry Lipschutz-Perry wrote: My Dear Sweet Pebble - I have always suspected that we might never really meet. I'm sure I've alluded to that. Yet in the dreams I have nightly, the whimsical thoughts during the day, the fantasies I create for myself while writing - you are real. In my journal, the poetry I'll share with you after a night of passion is that a dream- nay I say. I no longer know what is real or fiction. Who am I? An ordinary walking the earth or the stalwart Mercurial enchanter, enchanted. Do I fly hither and non, inches above the surreal holding you effortlessly in my arms? Do we visit the dessert together and breath its warm air. Do we splash in the Mexican tide jointly screaming in glee? Is the key to my heart, soul and abode a dream or is the vision of your benevolent, smiling face looking down on me as first you shed shirt, shoes, all that shrouds your beautiful body. I'm distracted for a moment by the assemblage of your garb floating to the floor, then struck by the luminance of your body. You flow under the bed sheets like a spirit- a vapor. Not until you are in my arms do I gasp, knowing you are real. The touch and warmth of your skin to mine, such relief and yet pause, like a warm summer's breeze. Is this a dream? No this is real. I have no choice but to lure you to the inevitable. Use your imagination, see my dreams, see yours. I know a place, in Mexico; we can be there next week or the week after to play. I know, I've been there before; perhaps you've already seen my keepsakes. There is also California next week, soon after, summer or someday. Until then, there is my place. Your favorite punch (Is that beer? What beer? Your favorite music? Tell me.) All things to comfort your dreams. Let us fulfill your dreams. Tell me how it should be. What makes you happy? When will it be? You tell me, if not now, it must be later in trance or authentic fantasy. ~B~ At 07:11 AM 3/5/2002 +0100, you wrote: >you are offering up so much to me. >im buzzing like a bumbling bee. >or is that fumbling? fumbling like a clumsy bee? >there is a bit of torment involved now. >propinquity is lacking. >this vision that you have created, this eliminaiton >out of the most mundane - this cocoon silk in which >to wrap ourselves...with this i will warm myself >nightly as i simmer down to dream. >but don't you know i am real and not real? >we are the greatest lovers who can never meet. >pebble.