What life above
Stone mountains,
What spirit
In the limp,
Peripatetic leaves—
The wild here
Had a structure—
Each figure was allowed to be
Love—
But without the mind
The desert spreads
To jungle...
Ah, the lover lets you love her
When you're lost before her contour—
She reveals things in the rocks and straw
To delude you there's no other—
And you forget your mind is one
With the hot wind
And that you came from nowhere,
In a caravan of Western movie extras
On some flawed and random diaspora,
From the wrath that you created
Out of silence, out of eyes.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Aftertaste Before Life Changes
