June 15, 2004 - 1:22 a.m.
Narcissus or the maybe laughter II
blood . bruise, gash../ splatter.
why do we hurt ourselves?
eachother?
this song is not for you... not only.
I crash through walls of space;
fly
one day i will.
i want to tell you
want to say
the thing that cannot be said.
i want more books,
more red
more of your eyes and mine...
meeting,
sparking
and speaking.
i want to speak without speaking
**
your vacillations make you even more beautiful.
secret.
fractured, broken , complicated
and
so beautiful.
if only...
**
these words could be spoken and not.
written in the italics we use to speak of things that are myth only...
we would be like Herakles and Geryon, recognizing ourselves in eachother...
like italics.
bent, not quite straight.
sliding off the page... into...
****
...and i write these words which can only be held against me,
in spite of...
their inefficacy, and words i wish i could invest with more meaning...
there is nothing
i can do.
but try
i would try.
if only i was there
to tell you
you would laugh
and i would tell you.
and i would too.
****
now more... the real reason?
how could you not? have you seen the girls... they're so lovely....
"absolutely lovely, i can't believe the loveliness of..."
the the empty.
emphatic reiterations-
bending lilies,
broken, suggestive intonnations...
libation bearers...
i cannot atone for this crime.
the dancing girls sway
pleasantly, like lilies...
but awkward
without the wind.
and narcissus lonely
reads herself in the water.
drowning in thoughts of the other...
whom she recognizes but does not know...
and will i too, fall,
like a piece of scenery... onto my bed, still not knowing?
I waste
but i am not gone.
yet.
