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Friday, August 20, 2010

Blowing up Table Rock at Niagara Falls. It was too dangerous. People might be killed. It might collapse.


Before you even feel it.

Before you see the burns.

Before the serious night enters

And hides in the corner of the room


Before the question start.

Before the walls turn red.

Before the dreams come

Carrying their cloth bags, damp

With slender breathing.

Before these things,

All language will stop.

I will hold you

With my eyes, as if

All other instruments

Were broken and we

Had nO right to come here.

The thickness of our bodies

Shall be of great comfort

Then. The heavy verbs

Of our movements shall

Appear as dance.

Then, I will kiss you

With my lips full upon

All that is your reason.

And we will be transported

Together. And they who chance to see

These things will be unable to remember

Our names or if we stood

Before them. for them,

And their time, we shall

Have only this recognition : love.


The mouth opens, unaccustomed

To the finality of body encountering body

For the purpose of feeding, an expression,

Lip to lip and touching deeper than language

Allows. The fireworks from the edge of the trenches

Says that fulfillment is in sight, a knowing from

One body to another, explained in ripples of orgasm,

Delineating the parameters of the embrace. I embrace

You. To say it in French; my language no longer includes

The mention of your name. You pulse through my nervous

System, lit by the light of your own loins burning brightly against the

electricity of electronic media. What is left to say? I reach

To bring my energy across the air to you. I express myself in

A final emission that sticks to my hands as I rec


Now I couldn’t really say

If it was morning coming

Around the corner with that basket

Of bread in its hands, but

It was smiling and somebody

Was moving little strings

And music was a funny man

With garlic round his throat

And fire in a cup.

This seemed good.

I kept my eye on the top

Of the hill for about an hour.

The sun was a little late, had

A harder time getting ready.

Clouds caught in the trees or bumping

Along the ground, half asleep. Still,

There it was like everyday I had imagined

It. Fat and round and very bright.

It walked on my skin and moved into my eyes

Like it lived there. Some birds flew past,

Either inside me or outside me. It was one

Of the other, but never both. A song was

Starting a little further down the road.

Reason enough to go on.

Go on.

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