naked, you are as a fruit, halved, severed, opened

20 January 2007

Caridad,

The audacity we show is irreversible: the physiology of people is not something to play with. Regarding reverence I say this: a woman shall have it (from a son, the answer to much rattle in the thoraxic box).

Things will break: there, one motion, a body-like taste. Sacks of salty water. Despite music, I am dry, my palate fixated. Stuck in __________. To walk in his shoes. To hold the face, coiled in one hand, one evening. Ask forgiveness. I never meant to: these things are not written. Not supple. As for pedestrians we will say: "Share us in El Camino de Santiago".

We will, incestuously, return.

Apples and Bells: I have no shields to abhor them.

Faith and Anxiety become the same. Share a code, a context. I am not to speak, so take me here, have your way with me. In this message a woman is waiting for me, she pays no attention to how I squander my (paper is mostly a) historical credibility. They paid the Second World War with their breeding, stoicism, lucrative forms, revelling.

Like her, I wait, for you, here. There are no reasons to debate the state of disrobing. A simple "enough" will do away with committing a crime, on the doorstep. Finale.

I roll around on the floor for her, always have, and lay there, waiting.
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"You're human," she says, "like it or not!"

Like it or not. With hopes, we will make a space and shall be entered (body unobscured, non-body, Buddhism, etc.). They will enter (through) the principal door, sit stage left, exeunt. Derrida will be heard: as to thread, to examine, blush. I can hardly remember, so THEY should pay to the crossroads, what is due there, copper, and each of them (blinking). I can spell the same, "in sections, in squares" here. Not for fear of you, intimately. I am petrified.

Today a darker gray sets in around my eyes and I'm reminded of an insistence on my tongue: to speak like my mother, ill-fitted, blasphemous. The poverty of men makes me wonder, pitty God's condition. Let's buy him a drink, Caridad, lets go in a 'menage-a-trois' with the poor bastard, let's show him the possibility of desire/satiety.

Bajo.