At the height of happiness, I have spoken of a music never heard before. So what? If only I could in a continual state of ecstasy, shaping the body of the pome with my own, rescuing every phrase with my days and weeks, imbuing the poem with my breath while feeding letters of its every word into the offering in this ceremony of living.

I collapseI touch myselfa flower's gesturefrailcold

Don't forget your eyesbecause I inhabit them

the sense of thingsremains in the intensity of their names

All night I flee from someone. I lead the chase, I lead the fugue. I sing a song of mourning. Black birds over black shrouds. My brain cries.

I waituntil they finish uplivingwithout youat dawn without you

Your eyes blind everything, even the night, your name written inside me.

I offer myself awfullyabyss frostI offer myselfyou frighten meI offer myselfI don't give a fuck

I speak of something not in this world. I speak of someone whose purpose is elsewhere.