Wednesday, June 18, 2014

If This Were A Map:


If this were a map 
it would wind bafflingly around my estuary.

I have an unsettled oasis,

something is churning toward future, 
future which is not a reliable resource- 

rather, steam, rather, coal, rather


Desire, wants, needs, beginnings, uncertainty, nakedness, fibers, silence, communication, action, inaction, power, (what is it?), things that wield power: scales, steamrollers, guns, ovens, water boarding, captivity, isolation, isolation with a person, the room of the mind. 

Nonverbal communication, being in a room with someone in your mind. Letting someone into the room of your mind. Occupying a room with someone- a room that is not physical, a room of space, a theoretical room, 

room is more than metaphor: 

room is where we are with each other 

How much can language conjure the incomprehensible body?

It can be a face between the knees. 


How much ground can we gain through this groping, this groping for light? I told my friend in the car: there aren't enough hands in the world to cut off, to make it right. 

We have to reckon with the hand, hand as weapon and symbol. 

And I crawl now toward the symbol of a trap-door. (Symbol is not a dirty word.) Symbol is as sacred as dirt, arm, stomach, hand against stomach, 


I appreciate symbol, but am ravenous and brief. Give me rock above map, 
moment above illustration, 

your spleen on a plate, I'll lap it up,

I'm an animal.  


Dear beloved,
I'm an animal.
You are too.

Resistance is
(anecdotally, totally,)

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