reap the worldwind .... continued

yrain was a little startled when the straw man walked in and leaned against the table.  she'd heard someone coming.  that wasn't it.  it wasn't even so much that he was made of straw.  it was anatomical, her disquiet.  he leaned against the table with what could possibly have been a leer, or not, it was hard without facial features.  the leer seemed implied by the thrust of his hips and the enormity of his twisted junk.

no offense, nice of you to offer, but you look painful.  i don't like to be hurt.

straw man shrugged, turned, and walked out the way he had come.

why did i even leave the cabin?

but then--  he was here.  the golden wheat lay flat this way and that.  an enormous whooshing sound and then stillness.  you had to know he was there he couldn't be seen but she recognized the feel of him.  the electric spasmodic rapture he uncoiled in her.  he pushed her gently onto the table and warmed her clam with something, mouth, hand, she couldn't tell, didn't care.  he brushed his hand along her spine unhinging the kundalini snakes until they writhed and spun through the cosmos of her body.  she felt him plunge into her not just at the coital juncture but through her entire body--  perhaps he would wear her as a glove an overcoat.

her mind began to form the design.  eyes open.  eyes shut.  didn't matter.  something like a flower constructed of beetle shells clicking ever inward, aperture of bliss.

but then they were spinning.  he was holding her tightly, so tightly she was very nearly insensible, and then whoosh.  she spun up into the the twister he had become.





borges on youtube
part 1
part 2