he calls her across the time zones to a cell that echoes
to read her a poemit's a poem that goes over the air 'winged words' isn't that Homer he thinks,
with what he calls thinking
which is more like gutting gutting a simile of the poem
he wishes to send her to her body
as his blindness is a mask for death
well he calls
and reads into the machine this pome
he wanted to give her and
he does but his voice
isn't so hot hot so hot hot so hot it burns
the cradle
she works works works
healing hunting her wolves canter he thinks
no wolves don't canter
her voice through the lines of seizure
around the planet
our connected and connected bodies
a birth giving berth to walk up in her body
her womb the sage shell of her desire eye and ear encountering hands over clatter not chatter messenger breaking down their bodies fantasms over the electronic capitalist cable words are money
he had told a professor words are phone calls
kiss-o-grams dialgrams
to read her a poemit's a poem that goes over the air 'winged words' isn't that Homer he thinks,
with what he calls thinking
which is more like gutting gutting a simile of the poem
he wishes to send her to her body
as his blindness is a mask for death
well he calls
and reads into the machine this pome
he wanted to give her and
he does but his voice
isn't so hot hot so hot hot so hot it burns
the cradle
she works works works
healing hunting her wolves canter he thinks
no wolves don't canter
her voice through the lines of seizure
around the planet
our connected and connected bodies
a birth giving berth to walk up in her body
her womb the sage shell of her desire eye and ear encountering hands over clatter not chatter messenger breaking down their bodies fantasms over the electronic capitalist cable words are money
he had told a professor words are phone calls
kiss-o-grams dialgrams
Oh woman of wolves and mist
misting over gerunds & space
your eyes into hands
we seek the transcendental
O also the kiss of bodies the sweep of our bodies
even the title
the name of night and trees
it spins the top of noun and naming place
now in the middle of night
the deep place of no face
he longs for her
absent one
of far off spaces
where wolves howl
chunky waves hurl
by the pediment of song
and he is her lover the unseen one
yearns his stomach
speaks for his desire
the far off one
by stones and places
pebbles crushed by the sea long place
where he imagines her body and
her words all flowing over him
a song of honey
how say to the
one
how twist
in the churning of absence?
her hands imagined in the other air
her hands stick in
his mouth
her sex a desire for her to burn his insides out
becoming her
born into her again
the mist and sky the broom
the
simple mouth of greeting and kiss
gnarled mouth
of her word sigh song
and his body thrown around
by her
in the midnight middle of the night
wants
her name to say his lips
to say breast lip and langour
lover
lip tongue
how can I long for
it
O tongue speak!
misting over gerunds & space
your eyes into hands
we seek the transcendental
O also the kiss of bodies the sweep of our bodies
even the title
the name of night and trees
it spins the top of noun and naming place
now in the middle of night
the deep place of no face
he longs for her
absent one
of far off spaces
where wolves howl
chunky waves hurl
by the pediment of song
and he is her lover the unseen one
yearns his stomach
speaks for his desire
the far off one
by stones and places
pebbles crushed by the sea long place
where he imagines her body and
her words all flowing over him
a song of honey
how say to the
one
how twist
in the churning of absence?
her hands imagined in the other air
her hands stick in
his mouth
her sex a desire for her to burn his insides out
becoming her
born into her again
the mist and sky the broom
the
simple mouth of greeting and kiss
gnarled mouth
of her word sigh song
and his body thrown around
by her
in the midnight middle of the night
wants
her name to say his lips
to say breast lip and langour
lover
lip tongue
how can I long for
it
O tongue speak!
