Saturday, July 18, 2009

Something from nothing

my heart leaks through hole in my head
from crack created by baking sun…
too much sun, all this sun.

I have found memories, from the future,
of finding you.
Found you, similitude
found you, found praxis...
in the bright sun, too much sun.

The things that no one else gets to hear
I whispered to you without words
tongue to tongue.
We became shapes together
a primal scene witnessed by
my passive child heart.

I was sucking your tongue,
“Nothing comes from nothing.”
was your secret farewell…indefinitely along.
You see people as mass produced objects
You're a pastiche of affections…of affectations!
I stand for…I humanize your secondary gain…
your reaction formation.

I stand for my human eyes,
you’re a misery of indecision.
What makes you think I care? I think.
I had to kill you…
I blew off your head
with definite smoothness
bits of you on my best shirt.

In my dark city/forest
soft moonlight rains...
rainlight steams.
On my roof, describing your beautiful body
to myself, I burst into tears…
and the wolves are still.
Deskilled and distant, you are telescopic
a dot…a period.

From my roof , cold city stares at me,
at my something from nothing.
In the rain I turn off the moon
hide the rivers, mountains, and trees
of the forest/city and live with ghosts.
In the dark I feel myself
self knowledge, self mastery.
The wolves listen to my howl
and understand with primal piety,
as the cool rain soothes
baking sun.

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