O Still Small Voice

Cozy! Refreshing 🍄

My playthrough:

Saying yes your attention like saying your grace, splitcam over the same style door of the same hardware store, hewn from the same tree, same pinecone burned to smoke in air for lungs and yet: two different units, two different styles of shoe. Two different facets of the same daylight.

They don’t ask if the other way is true - attention heading off to find the idea of being mistaken for grace thrilling enough to make the sky rain; grace tailing on the idea of living in so complex and interconnected a world they can be mistaken for attention equally thrillling.

Their drives turn mutually self-sustaining. Grace never the means to prove it is attention (is the wind combing your hair attention). Attention never the tool to prove it is attending. Grace and attention form a union. They work one anothers shifts, they are hired by senses as one package.

Work performed upon the senses - the person cums, or whatever - so grace and attention slip out of shadow to live in this overflow sharing a postcoital, suspended body. One identity takes a body back, but to grace and to attention, who dwell on and in such moments, not soon.

And work the body - presense shaping into this moment floods ventricles, floods chambers a heart elevated alone etches flesh banks. Only senses occupy, how much of either. Each sense negotiating the loss of attention permitted to grace the moment. Sense to notice every other.

Occupying the body into whatall hypervigilence becomes when self-preservation sloughs off, brokes into moments arbitrarily small - thoughts arbitrarily fleeting, nursed and nourished, bodily networks rewilded in sensecraft, remembering the insides of hearts are banks and rivers too.

Each sense navigating the waters of attention permitted to grace the moment. Senses negotiating place. Only sense occupies - not every, each. Banks of flesh etched by elevated heart only flooded chambers feel. Ventricles a waste system rounding to remainder being.

Up or down, each channel its ecosystem in works, heart a travelling becoming so rich there’s place, so coarse there’s ma’am-ers, “yes”, and consent so torn down and disheartened it fractures to bloom into a field of continuous negotiations, each sense breath enough to care.

Each sense tending the waters of becoming permitted to grace the moment. Presense torn from the puns it’s left to step out from (in whatever language möire and pun share the same sound), cut rhythmic channels through the heart as diaphram is pressed to live out spoken.

In or out, how many styles are lived, how many outfits are worn, how much of life is (a) drag, frictions embodied, courses not studied but cut, eyes not stony but oceans, toes not covered but soiled, so clayed by the chalk of the earth each sole a marshland of person-place it’s pottery.

Just being this jar my soles break to collect the occasion moments rests in sees become each present sense tension taken binary solear system - light being heard. Three-legged races making that jar two-mouthed, hearts ambulate shared languages, etch new channels.

Lengths, widths, and heights of the heart refocusing, reconnecting, reconditioning an atmosphere tacky words sail into, move with, settle over, bring up, hand voice, finger sign, point fist, fist focus, settle pleasure, present systems dimensions condition ropes of fluids.

Chains of pumps, a heart suspended, in shaped soles forms to starlight and breaks there any link to unbending rotation. Pitch, too, is cant. Process breathing with body, slouch making thresholds possible, how angels of tuples better angles’ve always been cute and oblique queers.

Every person a fucked up little cup, every body a new cup shaped by the last breath, by how to step into this, shaped, how shoulders straighten just enough to leave a night open with eyes and heart to the stars receive reflections, share positions, even as day conducts its violence.

Bounce, off the surface of one eye, finds its own star. Off the surface of the other finds a completely new stars. A sync in the motion of each eye as fields of relation, sync into the field of each motion as celebration of moving through air, a piercing as lensing as the heart.

As what a heart is - a starfield of holes - each portal a way in and out of what it means for grace and attention to permit water a moment. Grace to offer water to attention. Each sense receiving the waters of becoming permitted to channel the moment.

How this offering brings the body of awareness to ocean attention, how each breath banks care each word living lets unspoken fall out of notice falling out with time and into shared becoming, bringing bodies into step with the sense across a heart each stroke may correspond.

How being this offering leaves bodies a single mouth resting over two feet, reflects daylight and moonlight, fog and mist, frogsong, cicadasweep, constant winds and still’s persistence, lessens meaning and misses connection, couldn’t hold a beat to save a soul.

Waters yet to notice they’re creatures, heart a waterwheel, river a water clock, and all the turned rocks and heads tasks suspended, falls, steam and all that’s brought this moment, across powers of scales, strumming over them not to befuddle but to clarify, demire periphery.

When what was right there was unionized water sources becoming states of water. Pools of reflected starlight pottery at the banks of seasonality. Each node networks of process negotiating flow not through status but what remains when a status sips, microadjustments.

When an update is two waters meeting, warm industrial discharge brings manetees as surely as play brings generative acknowledgment, how thermals lift a leaf, how breath work is this very moment, something falling kept in flight. Why you still waters leaf shall touch.

Not to see ripples but to know rings for the seasonal care patterns erupt into, how microsanctuaries between earth and sole leaves the back of the body a standing wave in sleep, soles the front of the body, head a turbulent, graceful dreamfoil fault of attention.

How every being its surface side and depth side and impossible middle make the moment so crisp one own twilight embeds tender presense, etching the world into place through a release and hold and release through where and what each brought taste becoming shall can may.

An abyssal middle over zeroed attention and permissive grace invites fields of loss across frames of shatter to attend a moment. Each sense receiving the waters of becoming permitted to channel the ends. Negotiating all sound recognition’s yet to place, two silences.