(The following is Teresa's response to the preceding poem written by Celeste)

archangels of thought

so

here we sit at the crossroads of words
my friend!

you want it raw
do you?

darling!
words are merely a choice we make

meaning leaping between neurons

somewhere along the way leading forward

between the road flashing by the car,
janeh's perfect blonde beauty,
the spinach you had for lunch,
my memory spinning your
basal ganglia,

your wanting to hide
yet reach out,
become the connection point
between so many,
so much.

when we are raw
we are without question,
beyond belief,
relieved of choice
in the midst of the plains
under the stars
with nothing and no one
between us and everything.

i like being there,

but the archangels of thought,

serotonin,
dopamine,
all the unnamed transmitters,
the interstellar dust,
between my neurons,
intervene,
rise up
create whole cities
with arcane histories
in me,
melt them down into puddles,
form me into motons of force
becoming yesterday's notion of the impossible.

you want it raw baby?

it is only because you have absorbed too much.

go sit on the plains under the stars,

gestate,
ruminate,
cogitate,
meditate!

pretty soon,
without intent,
beyond accord

you'll rise again,

ride the archangels to victory,
to passion
to glory,

whole Bibles of stories!