Alien Landscape

Rejection of the Fishes.

there is nothing quite as peaceful as being submerged in a howling watery world of endless blue for minutes in a dead man's float which could span through lifetimes. it is a disturbing form of flight. one that swallows instead of letting go. it's a death that creeps instead of plunges.

your eyes look far and deep into the blue, into yourself and send you swirling with that bloated feeling of grandiose insignificance. like soaring underwater as a single trout among thousands other silver-blue mini-lightnings. just feeling and waiting in motion to be captured by a human net. to be consumed, to be regurgitated or excreted.

like a drop of rain falling and screaming but never being loud enough to drown out splashes of destiny.

how must it feel to be deserted? to make sand-angels where the ocean used to churn and broil? to be a droplet instead of rain?

when i was a younger girl, i used to enjoy exhaling long loud shouts at gathering groups of stupid-looking pigeons and laugh as the mighty sound of bird wings drowned out the sky, leaving an empty spot where i would lie and pretend i had friends. they were hiding among nearby pillars, ready to pounce and surprise me into sudden flight (just like with the pigeons). but i guess i must've fell asleep everytime because when i woke up, there were faraway echoes of running steps.

rejection of the fishes. i just love that title. it murmurs of darting fishes, the sound of her wings and the raspy static of arms and legs waving to make sand angels. of seas falling as rain into the clouds. and everything spirals into space, eyes closed, arms spread. whizzing past all the fishes that ever left. into the beginning! into that which gave birth to all of us.

you know, when we were all still fishes?
Posted by NHJ 2/26/2006 10:11:00 pm

Sunday, February 26, 2006