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In the last millennium’s waters my sperm swam with the causes of this century’s sickness. In these emptying skies the final secrets, the chasm between life and awareness is bridged by those left to handle the sun. In the cold, cloudy memory our art belongs in an ocean of distilled water. * * Everything is transparent night has receded our fortunes are cardboard compared to the sumptuousness of a blade of grass. Today I slipped and slid in a morass of questions I barely knew my name I left my skin outside I retreated into a glass of water. * * An argument sears the evening, suddenly opaque. Time has ceased, wrecked on the rocks, and the funeral I clasp catches fire too easily. When you unravel the flavour of a cube of cheese, believe in the inchoate story, this elegy for my youth, weaned off milk and onto a spider’s web. |
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