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Janus answers in a growing loam. Mitotic, exuberant. The face comes forward. The face comes forward. Then the little bird on the branch A self out there in the gray And supporting sky. The mirror tucks its love in two, The two devours the light. Fictive, anabsorptive. Moving Through the rooms. No fear of face. The ladder develops, emanates, releases Erasures. This way, this way. Barkers in the night. Grasslands, mirrors, Simpatico. The diamond sutra sits on a leaf's ledge Figures in a future descended By a breath, Recalcitrant, mirror-leering. The halls go one and One, Into Remember, taxes, facts Of instances where no self Waits for an explanation Of where it was it was to be. |
The tongue and the tongue and the tongue and the tongue. Comatose lowering, Fragile, implacable: The rest of the empty dots, the figments, the oblivious answers. Here in the cradle of the maze, Where the thumping comes, the men In briar, in fortunate misunder Standing ... Hurrying over the Sun and above the slits, the triangular fits, inside the damp advance of blundering. The sex of the sideways reflection, Sought after, indivisible, Porous. Inside the head of the palm, The fictive adjustments daily, By the minutes, You appearing as you-other, You-plural. A face to manage. A discussion to quarter, To migrate. Cancellations of the spectral |