solitary one caressed his thighs remembering. His head was eaten by the moon. Salt heart. Unknown the void between mountain and mountain. The cable dazzled us away. We were airborne for half the night. She leaked blood and tasted of sweat and tears. I licked the shadow beneath your mouth I sucked the sweetness of your nipple I feasted on the starvation of your loins. Until you took me. And shattered me against your heart’s stone.
You were a blank screen of contradictions. You were a scavenger of happiness. You sifted your life through your mouth like sand. And cannot die because he never lived.
The heart is the size of a loosely clenched fist. Gray tells you so. The lambent blue of a western mountain flower. What color are my eyes today. White.
He cried. Wake him up. I can’t. He cried.
Glass spy.
Ruins of the kingdom.
Far far away far flung.
The village at the bottom of the road was where the rooster could no longer be heard. Velvet as the creek bed the embrowning layers of leaves. A tremor of waterskate. A shape of spire surrounded by maple. Long long the distant siren. Crack of shotgun in the dazzled glen. You tasted the hot cross bun before the butter. Enchanting. But what was the cause of the anxiety that passed between our eyes? One speaks there only when one is lost.
Look. The farmer raised his cap in greeting. It is a friendly place the talk is mainly about the low prices for farm products and rising real estate taxes. The soft stench of the cowstables of milk and manure and their comfortable stares. Moo cow. Lovably ponderous tender and dumb. The rotted barn door opening to the blanched fields. Gone. Sky. Road. Rolling thunder of traffic. The hand riding the slipstream. An ensign snapping at the mast. Green blur of roadside whipping past. Swift plunges into the forest darts of sunlight on flashes of meadow shafts of brightness a fugue dream of the kingdom thought of the ornateness of leaves the netting of branches the dropped jewel boxes of wild flowers the weaving of the songs of the birds. Enframed in blur slipping by. Velocity. The automobile as an aid to daydreaming. Between any two cities there is a reverie. The hum of cement. Fly cast in amber. A special flair for knowing where to be at what time. Pigeons perched on his shoulders for the slightest reason. He dipped the zinc pail into the vat of milk. All you needed to do was make a list and you had an order. The peacock shrieks beneath the willow. The little girl drops her fork to the restaurant floor. A blow of ocean breeze makes the awning snap. The half-open door creaks in. If you listen you can make out what they are shouting on the beach. The laughter. The officious whistling of the lifeguards. A soothing roar of surf. Lapped with little pools of quiet. Your feet in the water your eyes on the clouds your mind in the city your heart in the forest. Your soul on the back of your tongue.
There we were all crammed into a multivalent now here always. Then that is to say at that time. How wrong we were! Curled around the jugular nonetheless. Polysemic. Suffocating.
Nothing was not available. Electronic hysteria glossolalia of the chatroom elusive but multiple tasks. There were subordinate questions such as who tied the solitary one to the bedposts. The exquisite happiness of public humiliation fed absolute pride. The random constellations of public chaos organized according to fire codes and usage zones. Woman was the principle of disorganization man the imposer suspect in the urban ghettos of repealed order.
She again. Who dared you to set her boundaries. Who lashed according to absolute moments. Living in a present without past without future. Demanding submission to pity. Inciting the stallion to the thrust of light. A hand on muscle. Strain without object. The strenuous drive toward the normal. The ordinary an irresistible dare.
She again. We dreamed of each other for days. Again. We stalked each other like prey our fear equal to our despair. Again. You stood before me like a pillar of darkness in the wilderness. Wherever I reached for you you disappeared in a play of fire and pain. You burned me. There was nowhere to go. The shed collapsed in the back of my mouth… . The titular leader advanced to the front of the march. And there spoke to the line of winter police. Our job is not to move. Our ice is your boundary.
In your hand the possible adventure. That must come out. Like an afterwards of stark beauty. A bed of vastness. Caught in a constabulary of sheets. Wild nights of memory and a litter of squibs. Larks of irresponsibility. Rocket flowers in the community gardens. Nothing but name to back it but that was enough. At the time.
The solitary one returned to his solitude with a hurried bouquet of thankfulness. To briefly coin his joy.
A spiral of heavenliness rose from his lamp.
She danced in the pocket of the meadow thinking she was alone. Purslane. A long sigh between beats of night. Being taken with. Being overtaken by. A portfolio of elevations for an ideal city. Gargoyles prone with chin in palm on malachite consoles. Glass caryatids holding the tablets. A line of prophets speaking words of stone.
We could hear everything. Those of us alive at the time that is. Nothing was more amazing than the way things came and came. The wonder of the night was that it recurred there was always a sky above him the clouds marshaled thought into ranks of possibility the stars uncurtained the hallways of the night there were infinite perspectives of assurance. The glorious freedom of the dream.
They felt themselves expand to the ends of the universe the musicians of quantity told them had no end. Though only in thought it was enough. For you to have it. To turn your back on the shattering. The moon a flocking of swallows the sun an arrow of tenderness. Where could they meet but on the sand. But you told me to. And I did it. Here. See.
Tracing the path of the unknown one the silent one in another part of the city. For we moved to a city. Then.
Back and forth the cat’s cradle of blue threads of light.
Ubiquitous tangents of the real.
Valance. Vectors. Corrupted sectors. Prime time. Brief psychotic breaks.
Healing followed the same pattern.
He still felt the occasional stab of a barely endurable anguish in the phantom heart.
I know it is not there and yet I feel it.
Useless notes from the director applied to a hopeless production. And yet the paradox held. The swinging bell in the great cathedral near the pension where we stayed in that ancient city. Built over centuries weird pockets of light on the entablature where the grotesque peeked at the world between the averted loins of the beautiful.
You turned toward me in sadness away from me in joy. That was a hard time.
Knots of the impenetrable hung like lianas in our room. Unbearable the brief openings of light. Seeing was. Between starlight and the seapaths of the moon. She stepped on darkness timidly gathering her hands each clutching a different fear to her small and withered breasts.
Cross.
Aching to and unable to. Behind him the ghosts of his unborn children. We received with clenched hands the offerings. We were showered with blessings. We held our hands over our heads to protect them from the sun. We pleaded for exemption.
By that time love had become unendurable.
The low iron railing around the small temple.
More crows.
At the time the orans presided the slim figure on the catacomb wall rose before him as he
