from New Mathematics: A Love Story
We’ve reached the jagged shore. Just as
they said, white birds do bend like tired actresses,
in love. Suckling gold foam over lazy flappers
Fat leopard arch and fight it down. Knock knock
the haunt of time. Knock bottom patch knock in numbers.
infinite mocks infinite right. Suckling time. Here we are not
How you exist in place of want. My god I’ve made a thin thing.
By the lacy window bed. You new, owe me nothing. What is real
now thundering infinite cantos above improvised concierto. Head
to the corner. Back to the door. Forgive us I love you. Distributed in avenues
unaware of consequence. Time: as if the thing gave up
between the ankles. limp to the crease of certainty. Taking new form
under exhausted parachutes. Popping glimmer dumb in shadowless architecture.
Forgive us noises in themselves. We are incidentally moving, otherwise
untouchable. On the hook of the arm I wear a mark of capital and fame.
Talk to me about youth, vibrancy of belief, luxury of love. In stereo bash
orchestra, punch my pajamas out. Push us out and off this frame.
I am imagined. As in fantasy, our steel parts
spark up. No longer inventing the sedentary center.
One must make head of it. Not fight for it, if that’s
what you mean. Across from water, inside glowing
tanks, your ideas put me down. Sanctity in the froth full
flies that fetch quick the dead. Inch on grace of force
in perverse light. pinch-pinch at the sleeve. How grow
sick pitch of bone against bone. What it is in night bed.
What it can do when I am flag and wind fag. To raise a fist,
kill the body.To kill the body, look to me completely.