I have of late
pondered: when did I stop wanting to be president?
when was I from my mother womb untimely ripped?
was it ever timely? how much do you want for bliss?
how much for solitude? how much for the feelings
emancipated from spring clouds after a day in the park?
listen: the silence of things that are bound to happen!
spring comes screaming downhill! terrible lovers! terrible
lovers everywhere! spring blooms everywhere, and with it
the terrible lovers: under the trees, on the hills, in the mirror!
think: what good is a lover who isn't terrified? what good is
a love that does not incur thirst for more? articulate:
words leave your lips, and from your lips into eternity, and
from there into mortality, and from there into the beloved's ears,
and words for a lifetime: for a minute's kiss.
conceive: leaves fall, fall leaves. I saw a street once,
ironically named Heartfelt, just know: there are no Heavens
on Earth -- especially not in apartments. Lenin was fond
of systems; our systems are fond of antitrust; your system
of tender turbulence. Just know: for everything
you do, and I do, there'll be a partner, but
two are done alone:
death and porn.
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