a very dark god

            nearer then farther, thinning and thinner still farther urging intently. is showing darkness nothing else than nothing and not more particularly signaling lights below than parallel to music is clear.

1.

This space is occupied only by bodies in motion.

The former is not unrelieved; a correct picture of the psychic norm, the history that I know did not allow my senses time to wake for others.  It is the essence of modernity, the yet unnamable glimmer behind your eyes, those seemingly abstract and arbitrary signs still igniting controversy. 

Define language and writing elsewhere.  Remain enigmatic. 

A few words next about translation, and then we enter the text. 

Body, rupture, loss, I must, surging with cadence, experience time and distance I wrote my name in red ink the various ethical systems shudder to contain.  I have followed you as far as I can, the planets closed to your bray blazon I’m going to find out what love is.  

Whether it’s explicit or purely embodies

Why not admit that my dissatisfaction reveals an excessive ambition
a tiny spasmodic thrill that is the end and the beginning of jouissance
one tells of her insomnia, another of her migraines, and others of her nervous rash and her nervous tic
all born with a taste for pleasure
a kind of clawing and biting to clear a path
through the irritated swelling of pulled hair
to silently take up residence in our bodies and minds:
the province of the animate
follow their course euphoric
at the first seminal drop

Almost every day, you tell me, you are forced to run in sudden panic
before launching into narrative
an affirmative outburst that immediately fades
burning the back of your hollow throat and irradiating the barren combustion of thought
in continuous conflict with your head, skin, bladder and bowels

It is tempting to assume that the images of rampaging felt an undeniable relief
in ceasing to be beautiful
pulsing and shimmering like an animated painting
of a bleeding, literally headless body of its queen

mumble among ourselves

hush sunflower confess one thing.  You are everywhere partial and entire.  Nothing moves no words appear.  Wake a short narrative the hunger which finds a way to deal with a recurring and unseemly position.  The first phrase corresponded with need to form condemned to depend on something other.  Love song poetics but what do most know of windblown curtains carefully deliberately and wholeheartedly stolen.  But to be left with names translated into screams someone else’s country but this landscape gaping with holes restless birds dislodged the body brims romance through repetitive action.  Unbound complete—each brushstroke speaks sweetly of home.

of all the forms it has taken interrogations consultations autobiographical narratives letters recorded transcribed assembled into dossiers published and commented on

I’m sure that love will be our revenge the summer evenings’ considerable importance.  Though we have only love of the sea in common swallowed in a moment we had hardly begun.  I think that in loving you I might leap over becalmed seas that will never be the subject of a thousand poems.  This current stitching together the disparate imprisoned in symmetry.  Bear down until it almost breaks.  We are constantly submerged in almost touching.  I am writing because it is raining the patient suffering of forgetting the sound of rippled pages suspicious of spontaneity in first person.  Any romantic notions one might have of the word diary depresses our resemblance.  Gush restricted smile.

the voice of Shakespeare

leaping like sparks from synapse to synapse the drama of the baffled embattled clasping it and yet thrusting it off realizing the thing the terrible thing sublimely catastrophic and expansive.  We are willing the sacred body of psyche and soul all but forgotten inwards then outwards reveling without a pulse.  Secrets collide and this is called desire beating us into synchronized surge.  It may be that the last scene is too violent if we really do love impersonating agony the most destructive bucked and spun into darkness.  The decision I should have made struggles and tightens the knot.  Madrigal song mercifully as quick as it was awkward I’m not going to do anything but tug and rip quicker.

for an instant or perhaps forever we find ourselves lying on a timeless beach a ribbon or a road or a line shaping the tempo of our heartbeat and breath

faced again with what’s gone hideously to a quieter place the channel that shows the fog moving into your arms.  From Jack Spicer’s gutted radios as if sound were perfect motions roving the interior body the duration.  Beat warm dimensional kneeling on air.  Somewhere in static tapping feet to a half-spoke rosary however badly love will go looking for the many masks of its hundred faces.  Its plastic mouths waiting to whisper devotional poems with toad for tongue I still love you or wandering through the ether from ear to ear years after.  Become someone else’s empire.  Become cosmic hostage.  All sphincters contract at the gush of verbal lava.  Synchronize alarm.  Breathe heavily.