lerepentir

Ariadne Pay attention: I have been yielded out of the earth in a white bag; the body in it was not blue or light blue or grinning, it was a soup of every old organ, every broad bit of skin; it has been reformed to factor the universe; it has died in a number of extraordinary ways, fanatical and hanging in Cyprus, rendering out young in Cyprus, ruthless or tender Artemis in Cyprus; look how it has been made to follow the same sad element, the same thin line of string that leads constantly, mechanically out; I arrive now wholly congealed; my form is a genuflection, an echo, the marble head of a tragic woman. Pay attention: I am not my

Litany These poems, these hairs, and you the dog that bit me.— You are atom, and I excuse you from it. I've no need of photograph, memory, keeping you so immediate. Do I shame you to ask it? Give me what might break my bones, and my bones, give me those as well, so that I might hold them intimately and, in old age, feel you in them like dark weather.

Lovers, Finish Your Sentences Lovers, finish your sentences. Finish your sentences and be open as you came, be like ghosts: acknowledge we, too, once were men, we, too, drag long and sad across the same stark stretch of linoleum and recall to choke out our worships. I arrive at the cue of you, a gray and habitual wearing, moaning come for what you came for. Lovers, come for what you came for and bore in mind.

Zeno I draw a void to a void. Whose mathematics are these that make us whole? The days are blank logarithms, the astounded webbings of which do not accompany us to our loneliness. What body could I take adequately into mine and stand substantiated by? I am no farmer's field, pocketed by prayer of good season, but instead secret my small, underground thought of a world made completely of rain.— Held in whole—the apparatus of each dimension of galaxies, the life of draught and the draught of life, the busy culmination of everything that is by its distinct nature incomplete— my love is an incapable and layman god, its terms, its