Bernard Dumaine Sans Titre 2006

J. Karl Bogartte
THE SPINDLES ARC
La Belle Inutile ditions
THE SPINDLES ARC
J. Karl Bogartte
Cover: From photograph of GrecoRoman sculpture
Photographer unknown.
Frontispiece: Bernard Dumaine. Sans Titre 2006
Back cover photo: Jon Graham
All rights, duplications and transmissions are open
and subject to speculation.
ISBN: 978-1-312-05802-6
La Belle Inutile ditions
http://labelleinutile.free.fr/index.html
Paris, 2014
THE SPINDLES ARC
"Given a light source and a spherical mirror, fnd the point
on the mirror where the light will be refected to the eye
of an observer." Ibn Al-Haitham
While her clothes are burning,
the dew is immense. ~Jacques Dupin
In every town I crossed, mirrors would fog up.
~Pierre Peuchmaurd
13
Tey would sacrifce for darkness, ofering turbulence.
Tey would surrender ghostly mechanisms and shivering
limbs, to emulate rain. To relinquish surface light, they
spread themselves as possibility stirring the eggs into
fashionable clothing and others, impervious to themselves,
shedding layers with silent tongues. Claws, engaged
Touch me here, where the bones in this dimension grow
deeper, glow and whisper...
14
Nothing is natural, here among shadows, only the most
unnatural descriptions to force prolonged confrontation,
out of habit, out of view. Scraping light of your face.
Bathing night. Shaping anxious movements against the
muteness of separation, to hold fast, shore stellar, exceeding
delight.
Ravenous drops of blood intimidate sacrifcial linen,
whispering, clueless but hopeful, churning out hallucina-
tions among the most delicate to be found anywhere in na-
ture. An impossible arc encouraged outside of time,
night-bearing, a random glow among desperate risks.
A single gesture tears a hole in the silence of perception,
pulls darkness and mystery out of a murmur, a tremor, an
unorthodox angle, suddenly and without warning. Eyes es-
caping the body for a battle of wits. A feral solution...
15
With quartz fltered through both blood and shadow,
for the reconnaissance, engendering fre in the where-
abouts. Casting sublime doubt in a medieval sense, scat-
tering perception. You evade exposure through
pantomime, horn the entrances and assume ancient cells
for morning light. In the clothing of luminous spores, you
throw words disguised as divining stakes thrust into a bril-
liant gamble. Equations erupt. Te structure of a fortuitous
gaze conspires into embers. You are her theories of future
anatomy, for the possible uncertainty of an impulse to form
an image that appears to remain anonymous, like a
weapon.
16
Slowly dying insects power the molecular light of sur-
prise endings. You are not waking without roots, without
sipping blood, without that urgent female timepiece erupt-
ing inside a bewildering city ever so slowly landing in a
body abandoned on the highway, emitting sparks.
Light always travels in style, even in its sleep. A strange
hat, a scarf much too long for decent departures. A mouth
full of precious stones.
17
Mystery spreads like pollen. Light, powered by the
scent of sleeping women. Time is not an essence, but a
shallow gesture, a change of clothing.
Nimble serum stirred up in the chasm, in the word
attraction dripping on the refection, on the foor.
Smashed with a hammer, this mercury. Interrupted
beauty that unleashes a barricade. Magnetic. Being of
ash
18
Darkness is a tribal chant. An afair of agitation. Un-
thinkable germination.
Your opposite strikes up a conversation, ofering
breathless words that make no sense, unless apprehended
as interpretations for a worthy betrayal. Launching runes
with a grappling hook.
19
20
Tey might wallow in the arcs, licking down the pre-
cious curve, eyes pinned for lepidoptera, whispering eccen-
tricities, a very silent gasp. You fulfll the desert spaces,
infowering arc. Te languid fruit of torches. A conspiracy
of starry nights left unattended Unexplained
Te endless gaze is the blindfold of certainty.
Te murmur of perception imitates the rain. Te
breath that grows heavy in the intimacy of outspoken
frenzy
Hush, the murmur and the ancient endeavors land-
scaping a two-way mirror against an eclipse. Each to each,
other for another into witch and whatever, and who goes
there inhaling the eclipse, breaking the body into a life
silvering with the landscape.
Te condor-spouse tips the light in your favor, spreads
her gyroscope, and everything arrives at midnight. Tere
is the moons elliptical candle spilled in the shape of a very
slender trance when it cracks along the edges of a refec-
tion.
21
22
Your persona strikes fint, corrupts the sea, misspells
your name
Light plumes in night faces, deep-seated image of your-
self feeing the scene, abiding in the vagaries of unthinking
celestial bodies. Tere was always the mastery of fre, the
sense of fguring, the venus-ferruling contraptions for hun-
gry quartz. How you defne yourself. Without return. I
have no regrets at all. Against yourself Swaying of the
winds bright arc, blood-swarm. When your breath is an-
other, seeing
23
Memory is that clock ticking in the dark, fooding the
room with pearls, setting fres in a way that enables a sense
of pathos with long painfully soft envelopes addressed to
the way she walks. A poisonous fower crushed between
your legs. A melancholy gesture, between shadows.
Te intersecting trauma of a selfsh glance is an impreg-
nation device of last minute decisions, and when aroused
to the point of no return it crashes into absence. Was it a
beacon, the body targeted? Te crossbow of a ghostly re-
semblance?
24
Another word for interference, or apparition An-
other gesture for the incision of fre. A sinister apprehen-
sion of time giving birth, re-seeding, grotesque beauty that
wanders among shadows. An aging space claimed by spi-
ders and reckless contortions. And in the esplanade of a
body tagged in the storm, a feckless version of ancient rites,
the thought patterns of invisible access.
25
I am the moth of your eyes underwater. Te you of my
canals lighting up the you of equatorial slaughterhouses for a
shallow wave, enfolding a sense of infnite variation in the
hum of secret societies. Te pressure of fading is immense and
feverish with tenderness.
She would pose endlessly, it was her destiny, so pretty,
almost corrosive.
Her messages were always too brief, but extremely po-
tent. Electrical charges forbade entrance into the city of
women, except to phantoms. One must become devious
26
Te fuselage was flled with explosives, endless dawns,
exaggeration of the vanishing point into primary dreams,
felds of lavender and chloroform, jackals, hallucinations,
nakedness, redistributed galaxies, the age of dark longing,
tedious mysteries, drooling, bright winds, brilliant expo-
sures
Always the endless doorways, the grasping of illusions,
and we were never alone, but for the language, we were
never enough, for the enchantment.
27
Te future belongs to the assassin and to the bride in
transition indistinguishable from a literal translation. Her
portrait is a window dragged out of darkness and wiped
with blood. She is the knife splitting tongues to facilitate
silence with barely detectable movements, sliding into des-
peration. Twin solutions of the bird of prey. Forked. Im-
proper negotiations can be fatal without an impenetrable
shield. Daylight is no longer logical.
28
It could have been a machine, but extremely sensitive
to the touch. You fear to touch it, yet its medium of pleas-
ure is intoxicating beyond relief.
Te long gowns growing out of the body, dividing the
night into triangles. Angles obsessed with exactness, to se-
cure a moment of naked release. Te onslaught of a con-
stellation, bright as a wedge locked into place.
I am the censor of your desperate levels, your skin crawling
with imaginary light. I am your depth, because of your surface.
I am your predator, extinguishing your mortal enemies those
ridiculous denunciations
29
Between the daylights knocking and the evening part-
ing echoes, the shimmer of long strides punctuates the
gravity of secret missions. She is bound to the amethyst of
epic particles, insincere vials, a compass-needle released
from any point of reference. Tere are discernible fuctua-
tions in consciousness, breathing out of tune. Eyelids lick-
ing leopards, extracting sleep.
Killing nothing that moves, only when it speaks
Te silk of a spider and the threads of a woman anno-
tate the frst utterance of the sea. Te loom that unravels a
gist of yourself, the rattling of horns, an aurora of grand
mutations
Te shape your fngers glow in convulsive pointing. To
never disappoint against unreasonable demands, grasping
desire by those hands that form your mouth. She knew it
would be easy, but your hands would give you away
Ageless yearning to spin priceless yarns, a tale told far and
wide, to unsettle the likes and dislikes of more delicate na-
tures.
30
31
Trowing mirrors the way one throws shadows. A
swan-like gesture.
Tere is an analogy to take no prisoners and those fun-
damental excursions into darker, deeper areas, and poised
against a timely conclusion. Te impossibility of returning
to normalcy. Te future approaches from behind, when the
pebbles of prehistory are found ahead, spinning. Teres
gold in those devious designs. An abundance of mint. De-
monic gestures. Enticing consciousness to swim
Your acrobatics are unknown and chosen without re-
morse. You deliberate with precious elements, scatter star-
less matter to illuminate distant relations, tuning the fork
of animal words, arterial entrances. Silence is a fre, turning
around with sensations of howling, an estate of runes. A
desirable chteau, to beg for appearance, swaying of the
winds bright arc.
Aggressive shadow, become secret, chilling, mining the
veins. Against, and the grinding of sparks, aphroditing into
a scent, a shrilling splendor. Forging an image of yourself,
against the mirror, unsigned. Acetylene torch. Erecting me-
morials to each passing fancy A skeleton key for an end-
less morning.
30
33
You enable the source of lightning, to force a sense of
light, enough of a reason to persist, for a season of conju-
ration, to resist.
Knowledge is drawing your shadow inwards to ignite
refections in reverse. Against the sun? Te negative sun
Te dream is hideous across the street, without that glow
invading the disquiet of attractive apprehension
34
Undercover, a banshee cloak, in a sign-language that
approaches the explicit striations of transparency in time,
fading on the run. One limb over another, the wing of en-
chanted escapes, forming an indigenous and abrasive
shape. Lunacy never fails to amuse, follows with preci-
sion precious one, to delight in the coy backdrop of a
scintillating lapse
Mystery struggles to regain your trust, tree-laden with
stars, creature-woven into wind. Circling. A royal shaping.
Night-riding into what beauty is invisible and inviolate
Te hark of a radiant passage, an axe to grind. A dark sol-
vent mesmerized by light and river
Te emulsion is the silence of a question. Te obstinate
machinery grinding out the evasive feminine, pooling in
dark spaces. Consciousness attracts the wind, lightning,
carnivorous shade, the overt cataclysm of your scent raised
in the scafolding of a long-haired psychopomp, a fawn-
like gift-wrapping, in a theatre lost at sea. Your lineage,
complete with chameleons and very sharp knives, when
they quietly convince, to the phases of ambiguity, the idol-
atry of your eagerness.
35
36
Only the engendering, immense blood-work ticking
outside of memory. Te spine is whirring through chan-
nels, extending the curve outwards, jutting template of
endless particles
Transparency, and fre, my love, and the erratic spin-
ning of triangles, heavy with quarry and hunting tracks,
the vampire thrust. Outside where luminosity dreams a
gift. Te light-gathering seduction. A moving negative
completes the grasping, while attraction repels light,
spreading the body with a prism.
37
She has always encouraged you, by denying your king-
dom. Both a shadow and a refection, engaged strangled,
resuscitated. (Repeat if necessary.)
Te long stares poured over the body, dividing fuidity
into elemental pauses. Te seer fowering. Te wedding
moves into a fery chrysalis Te stars fngering into the
earth. Te machines begging for ignition Touching only
that place where it is hidden away
You move away without meaning. Only the sense of an
unusual occurrence. Maybe even a shadow lingering. A
drop of sunlight, a much deeper night. Te shuddering of
an animal sance.
38
Firing blindly in the air, breathing glass... Conscious-
ness is a vessel perturbed by furious whispering.
Te messiness of consciousness as a fuid is unsettling.
As an object it is conducive to being moved from one lo-
cation to another. Germination is something else all to-
gether. Te heat is deceptive. Fluctuations are perverse. Te
universe animates your body from inside. If you are per-
sistent enough you can observe consciousness. But, only at
great risk...
Always your movement implies a forgery of the dou-
ble-cross, to increase light, moving to conspire appropri-
ately. A mothering device hidden among fractures, synaptic
decisions, "the way her index fnger barely insinuates a deci-
sive afiction" and "Oh, but she has not been here for many
years..." Pouring gold into unavoidable cracks.
A recent future breaking ground, for the long-eared
ones, the ambidextrous ones, rubbing fres together for in-
telligence, for crucial optics. Predatory radiance. Te night-
jam, stirring hunger in the doorway.
39
40
Te language of vessels, radical stem of star-renderings,
formed by lips. Te glimmer-reading of each ignited par-
ticle, between eyelids, the imperceptible priming fuses
whose howling far exceeds the wolf in glowing, afecting
the edges of things seen.
Your left invariably enters with your right, smearing
light, to exalt insurgent auras in the gift of swimming.
Compelled by vagrant sirens
Beware the hides of a seeker, the cries of a less or not,
the moth of a terror...
An elucidation of extremely long evenings, revealing
nothing for the unwary. Nothing is the shape of a river en-
tering from a great distance. A fction much too genetic to
be real, approached at face value, not to be repeated with-
out warning, making luminous the raptorial approach of
your eyes. Feverish intentions in portraiture, an animal
scent.
Your body covered with crystals is not sunlight but sur-
passes in dimension even the brightness of a long and very
promiscuous harking of a shadow. Fluorite casts every sus-
picion. It blows glass with envy. You often seem the most
fuid of creatures, a knife cutting a perfect facet with just
the right amount of pain, and pressure, passionate sighting,
and the interrupted gasp that makes everything glow.
Humming illuminates a dark musing, and severs...
41
What is lucid in your presence, however tentative, is
the attitude of transparency, in its active state, which is a
furious refusal - not simply to mystify, but to remove all
doubts. Te sense of nakedness violated with pleasure, and
disfgured with a passion to exchange places, when the
landscape intervenes. To visualize fre, engender it, yet re-
main nebulous and orphaned by chance, and choice, fring
through the ashes... Te virus of a window.
Te recitations of a slender coven. A sure-fre defance
of shadows.
42
43
Language does not invent, it self-destructs in a grand
desire for courage. Only your perspective matters. Being
mostly not at home, but aroused... Disguise is a loop beck-
oning the hours of visitation. Stuttering with lynx, mercury
scatters venus, cooing and purring in the antechambers,
merging with a sudden downpour.
Hunting in the dark, feeding the lamp-children.
44
Teres no excuse, for a scandal thats fxed, for the loss
of expectation, if you can still recall, every invisible thing
that comes to meet you and unsettle even the most intri-
cate gesture. A source of beguiling movement. A desire
masking innocence with hooves and late arrivals. Only if
you rearrange your numbers, urge tiny fres into forbidding
chambers, and allow her hissing to enter your stream. She
works curare into the words you whisper
Te elders fll the abyss with shadows. Te seers are un-
forgiving, the witches know for certain.
Te distance between you and your emulation is ex-
ceeded only by the claw marks on the door to your last
identity, to the cluster of lasting impressions, ambiguous
remarks, embedded codes, punctuated sighs, the rattle of
evening horns and the guards, drugged and dreaming. You
have no plans to return. Tere is no silence more luxurious
than this. No meanings sufcient enough... Shadows pen-
etrate words. But, you will return inevitably fgured, de-
ciphered, with other words, a deeper hunger, your body
transparent as light
45
46
Te library is a vessel of lucid leaves crushed into a
powder of dazzling confgurations, accessible only by rain
and mixed with passwords. Te entrance is an impossible
invention, cherished by isolated characters in fashionable
coats that glow in the dark, a moment of power welded to
an unsettling whisper... Tat is an image to celebrate, in
secret. Trust only your vulnerability.
Attraction is a brood of nights arousing triangles, set-
ting fres.
Teeth touching, almost breaking...
Transparency imitates fre. Perception takes the body
by surprise.
Te mirror is more blood than an excuse for beauty,
and given breath by desire, turns with equal measure the
passage into shadow. It is only the refection that lives many
lives in your honor, and keeps you alive merely to see what
cannot be seen. Te mirror lives in you, feeds you with an-
guish, loves you deeply...
47
48
Tere are warm fowers growing on that ribcage, with
an axe to grind out sparks, between neurons and treacher-
ous divides, connecting shades of identity and subterfuge
with unreasonable exaltation. Night is wandering. You are
a sequence of solar debris and moth-faced rooms sewn into
a hazardous shape that could never be divided without
error.
Your eyes crawl out of mystery, each time you shadow
her presence. She squeezes out her syrup for an impossible
manifestation of two-way mirrors, sea-shaped wheelbar-
rows and sapping devices lit up to extinguish the slender
frames of your antiquity. A solution of fesh-tones to douse
candle-hunger.
Te rapidity of a leopard's touch, the warm breath of
sleep interrupting a guttural gesture, a crouching glance,
faring into psychological pollen. Your presence is decep-
tive, a garden of delirious stains. Conspiratorial balance.
Otherwise, nothing moves. Nothing is without, a curious
splendor
49
It is enough to make language unbearable. What is real
exceeds your devotion, anticipates the claims of laceration.
Breathe slowly while extracting cells, evidence and lofty
perversions. A precise gamble. A life given respiration to
food major confrontations, like dreams... Nauseous vacan-
cies, idiocies, the projections of identities forming a tribal
chant. Te sun invents your night.
50
Writing in the dark is swallowing light, a face of
Alexandrian spindles in ferce combat with rapidly stroking
lynx, your image smeared. Fatal to the touch, throwing
capillaries. She is tantamount to a fre-glance, transmitting
seeds that sting and fare up, warming the roots, a friction
of the foreground. A pathology of arousal in clairvoyance,
glistening stains. Listening with rain.
51
Dawn is cinema, the mayhem of trapping jasmine be-
tween evasions, and the slippering of lips dissolving, to
solve the game of wolves when poured as vanishing cream
over the body into seizures of light. Te fusion of a fc-
tive quality. Te lingering, uneasy solutions.
Night, ridiculous angles. Glance, eating muses by can-
dlelight, she is eating her placenta, by instinct, your pre-
cious amanita At dawn you are a translation, the
nearness of another language, the fowing of locks captur-
ing a sense of clairvoyance, windows of night-presence for
a serum of words, a ridiculous corridor of invisible twins
You and you
52
Te body is magnetic in the phoenix-current, when
you arrive and enter into what precedes you, sleep-lifting
phrases, syzygy among strangers who never speak, when
lightning attends to a cluster of words. A rapid constella-
tion, the text vanishing, into feeding
Tat irradiating printing press strutting under a new
moon, light poured into lacerations the way shadows avoid
clothing. Neither attaining nor simultaneous, only a river
commanding your spine, never adjusting for similarities.
I am a seizure of light years, animal moisture beneath the
eyelids
53
Te whispering medicine is the primordial grace of a
dancing spider.
Light is a body dreaming itself into darkness, eyes open.
Lurid sentinels, basking. Disguise depending on the primal
pose, leading hunger by the universe. Trough the owl-
dogs gate, your image exceeds itself, antlers extended in
arousal, waking into what passes for arrival. Self-resonance,
the prow disturbed.
54
Te delay in your exposure is erasing the darkness that
precedes your arrival, a darkened gift, a pretext. A portrait
in the opposite direction Departure is eminent rain, ger-
minating eyes.
Te body follows the persona of a more intricate na-
ture, flls in the distance and appearance of distant planets,
slipping under radar, trembling fngers, illuminated with
somnambulant gestures left hanging in the long mirror of
Alhazen grinding light out of shadows.
55
Lightning is a telepathic linking of masterful states re-
pelling both the charring and the water falling. Fire is a
trace of spirits using sign language for ignition. Origin is
thawing out in color. Your images are phantoming in the
margins, setting traps...
Conjuring of witches, of slender and secret bodies ren-
dering exit wounds. Into the thick of honing an appearance
that casts no shadow, fre splitting into explicit erasure.
Your presence is deceptive, a garden of delirious stains.
56
Being lyrical without fear, is not without risk, but in
preparation to detonate. You become more than your own
meaning. Waking is merely an incision of consciousness,
an emerging length of waves, between yes and no, forked
with a vengeance. A serious invasion.
And the mirror crouching for the kill, dreaming at full
speed, in place, of executions, a conspiracy of invisible
shadows.
Dark and greedy, the always secret and ever vanishing
body of torrential mirroring.
57
Te nightly raids, spinning, a childs face challenged in
the womans sleep-rattled hair, a skeletal wind, diamond-
fxed, for a shooting range, a marvelous decoy in very dark
pacing
Trapping belladonna between the lines, between her
legs, between phases, to embrace the blindness of your
murmuring, pushing out between her lips, the lost her-
meticism of albino checkmates.
58
59
She has not been spoken of for many years, she is my-
thing vitreous and tapping pawns for tallow, she is quick-
ening her fuidity, to divert and disguise. Light poured into
lacerations the way shadows enter clothing, for only a mo-
ment, or two, only a hidden space. A translation, for
throwing phantoms into invisible walls. She is myth-ratch-
eting amorous, chiding brutal structures for mountainous
beckoning, to corrupt with pleasure.
Bleeding traces of sound, whisperings like tracks of a
laborious stalking, a sinuous tract to fondle the cocooning
Isis, tearing out the throat of a message cyphered with your
bodily dimension, awareness pushed into extremely haz-
ardous renditions.
Conjuring of witches, slender and obscure bodies ren-
dering exit wounds. Into the thick of honing an appearance
that casts no shadow, fre splicing into explicit erasure. De-
sirable erasures compel entrances...
60
Tere is life intending sparks in a time-spring. A neu-
rological landing site germinating pharmaceuticals shaped
into elegies or love letters intimating treason and scintil-
lating defacements. A gradual discontent among sudden
movements, the uttering wing of mutant pauses... rubbing
mirrors in a great fre.
When lightning attends to a paradoxical coven of
words, consciousness deliberates its next move...
61
Animating the solitude of helmets intimidating night-
hungry theatre. An illusionary pandemic of darkness,
lamping, lymphing, crawling along the edges, converging,
that ridiculous light from your body clears away whatever
debris resists it. Slipping into an unspoken touch. Te
dead mans bluf. A sequence of events not ordered by in-
sanity of reason...
When the humming bird meets the whistling gown
and the whispering twin is a bodily act of sabotage and a
priceless position, the pathos of your whereabouts triggers
many fuses. Te sun terminates in your eggs, sending neu-
rons into the medicinal chaos of a simple touch
62
Is the silence of a possibility the beginning of a triangle,
or merely the butterfy of anguish? Or, rather, a group por-
trait under threat of fading, a more pristine charade heavy
with innuendo. Your refection burning in the bath.
Te philosophy of chance encounters between the edge
of humming and falling asleep at the wheel, and the last
card placed according to each desperate longing, each un-
veiling city and the erotic stillness of phantom discoveries,
renders apparent an exact awareness of clueless ambiva-
lence. Te sun invents your night out of pure anxiety.
63
Who speaks these words that waken the deeper twin of
sleep? Te window-face...
I am the light that strikes the eyes of beasts" spreading
the distance into a lake that spins and coos and whispers
in many languages. A perpetually unraveling thread. A
heavy warmth like a harpoon, or a boomerang...
64
Turning light into fre, darkness compressed into in-
clusions, silence into the power of invisible numbers
planted and germinating into primal hunting maneuvers.
When you wake, Ill take your name away from you and
make you crawl, raven-faced Stillborn evidence of a hid-
den fountain, nameless tissue. Black and radiant coupling,
shedding archetypes. She smears her blood on your face,
flling in the blanks
65
66
What is that human space that calls to you, the efect
of fares, that spinning arc of rattling horns? Tat holds you
in high esteem
Toying with consciousness, spinning faster inside your-
self, when more than the landscape can endure, as separa-
tion, there are the fur-covered triggers toying with the
abyss, dawning shapes, shearing darkness into bones.
A trace of bones making aboriginal, lace of a landscape
for who by the threading and why for the image of an ob-
ject, in a quandary of images life held at gunpoint, as
ransom, held up by lanterns in a swing of rendering apes.
Te faade of indiference implies a spatial devastation,
the sublime instant of retracing the movement of arrival,
an efect of rewinding, untoward bearings A rendezvous
of fog coats in a love-meteored feld.
67
Te glow between living and ceasing to live, emulates
the long-legged cascade in her whispering circuitry, the
gaze of rain is corrupted flm, caught in the act, disguised
by pleasure purring in gradually brightening passwords.
Te catapult of an unfnished sentence, turned to provoke,
to stroke and latent in state, the light separates your body
from its own darkness.
I am not here, but reaching, pointing, slowly stemmed
and cycling I am drawn in through dark points, spreading
hunger for shapes. I am printing
68
Humming into shape, where she undermines, lopsided
in fragrance, the keepers of the ledges and the black sheer
cuts and angles driving through the eyes, while sleeping,
to conspire against what you perceive as nothing, no less
than a weapon. Te looming is flled with blood. Night
shrieks Your sigh is a higher status of awareness. Te
marvelous ledges are everywhere.
Te violence of infrared under your skin, delving, into
a trance. Your mouth leaving ghostly imprints
69
A conscious decision was Abyssinian bridal and nom
de plume, and without mercy when you shift your po-
sition, to acquire fuidity. Te lunar vagrancy of Lapidus
in primal sifting, dark object of wisdom in desperate dis-
array, twitching and aural
You take great pains to introduce yourself, and then
vague out with ironic trace. Te fresh cloth apprehended
lightning. She grows in your mouth, miming a distinct ad-
vantage, a salivating wave. A portent adoption veils a regal
structure It wasn't a feeling as much as a soft and dan-
gerous almost imperceptible whirring, a street lit from un-
derneath. In the corridors, she loves to swallow, that
sleepless whore Te moon waits, to fll the entrance.
70
Recalling the roots of a chamber, the hair-raising cur-
vature of a space that only exists through the intoxication
of the hands. A metamorphose of scraping, loosening, li-
bating, flling in the empty spaces, cutting along the edge
of sleep, splitting forceful inclusions. Only the slightest
movement interrupts the sequence of anatomy, erupting,
shaping the next refection.
Between your hands cut by eyes, stone-seeing in a
breath coaxed into astronomy and bound behind your
back. Consciousness, at that particular moment, places a
slab of brightness dark enough for the arousal of rain-
shaped creatures too sensitive to defeat. You surround your-
self with talons.
71
Te scorpion-headed mannequin, your shadow striking
inward for contact with the natural world. Te empty an-
imated gloves shaking out contentment in the garden, eye-
lids of entropy emitting seeds and slow rituals
Deception is a lunar state of unconditional ill repute, a
ravaging stone held close and indigoed into a conception
of fre rising through the body, facing the other direction.
A lancing misconception. A cloacal kiss that glows, forms
delirium and foam, captures a last chance and fares out.
You are the terrace that hurries the Black Widow into an
ide fxe. Where your lips prevail
72
Discourse is embalming in the alley struck blind by
frefies and written in obscenities. It was the code to an
unlocking device that spreads the brightness of the dark
ones, exhaling the pinion-face and quail-flm of the sacri-
fcially bred touched ones, the pendant arced ones, the
slow-moving delicate ones And all on the slim chance
of a lam.
And your veins flled with panther dust...
73
Seeing from the mining light Tere are others like
chambers, the numbers Living outside the body harbors
wolves, when language is rabid with exhaustion, for the
caught-up ones and the entangled long-shadowed engen-
dered twos Again, the intoxication of an ideal pose
Te shadowed ones Te fgures
An embrace that turns one around into mercury, two
into an approaching mirage and three, unlike the others,
pried open with your lips and aphrodisiac in nature hard
pressed to keep you alive.
74
Orchid, echidna, arachnid, other murmurs, mas-
querading as acquaintances assaulted in sleep. With a
bright red stone. Leaping into position. To be fed Draw-
ing blood from a horse-drawn shadow, dispelling sirens a
moment before climax, lost in translation. A grope of
cloaking devices, her key inserted into your lock
shadow-boxing in the butterfy alcove
75
76
Solitude is the infammation of shaping the moon into
your own image. An obsession is the unexpected dizziness
of an unbridled assumption. Te almost King buries his
bones for the price of a heightened visibility, returning a
succubus favor wrapped under hummingbirds. An ex-
tremely knowledgeable arousal that conjures its own inher-
ent risk.
To breathe without error, arouse without speaking. To
embody lightning. Te hidden dangers of opening the
blackness of a crow with a lacerating scent, a dark fight of
shapes, stares
If time is faced with crystals, space is riddled with bod-
ies, your body fooding outward beyond each one of its
starry membranes. Ridiculous facets
Te twin-pronged, night-fuctuating and dripping
light for a running distraction who separates for the
Lilith promise You fnd yourself in the way of hooves
memorizing shards, an ancient village raised out of smoke
and ransacked. An apparent metamorphosis, a river under
approaching fre.
77
Less than who you are, but might be found, missing,
spilling silence for words. She is the hollow in a splendid
incarnation of artifce and disorientation. Te deserted
space of bowing, taut compliance to a displacement of the
distance. Between the whole body, lover, enemy or double,
and the bath, between the frewall and the cries of many
names crushing the separation. While she sleeps, pleasure
is unfortunate and barely replicated, phantom shudders
A sense of vagueness is the result of obsessive clarity.
Te absolute certainty of mystery prevails.
78
Te optical illusion of a pathological response to sym-
metry follows a passage of nomadic resolution. A senseless
gift of shadows to unsettle projecting objects of attraction...
stuttering in unison... thrusting in the doorway.
Evening is crawling with difculty and erecting silence
according to a more intoxicating system of rapidly moving
personae. You arrive unannounced, numerous times, a
gathering of footsteps conceived into a magnet, and un-
avoidably contagious
79
Marvelous chambers, driven into the sea, to spawn, un-
expected gestures of consciousness...
Tey pinnacle in the garden and fabricate spirits, grap-
pling with tokens wrapped up in the radiant slime of merg-
ing, and hiving, in dark corners. Sistered and daughtered
Licking up your breath, splatters, subliminal attitudes of a
fresh kill, sipping blood from parted lips.
I swallow the ghost of your entrance, the pleasure of all
those dark windows.
80
Tere is within reach a barely conscious shadow edging
through a triangle, with talons extended. A sense of ur-
gency prevails. Tere is the backward glance, and swan
forging, a shoulder blade as pale in its vagueness as a gasp.
Never mind the guttural intonations only hinted at
How desirable is that darkness you feel compelled to
sign, with your voice, your hands? Desert, or portal (in
Spanish) emitting stars, underground lakes and obscene
caresses. Te overt limbs of the owl in ovation, a dazzling
dissection handed down through the centuries without re-
morse She is always dying for your eyes She is always
dying in your mouth beneath a great shadow And
silence in the wings.
81
"What is that human space that calls to you, the efect of
fares, that spinning arc of rattling horns?"
Tere are slaves in Antioch that need tending to, and de-
fenses that desire demolition Who hangs a tale where
pleasure resides? Kings to kill... Whos to say otherwise?
Tere are only later questions to amuse.
Analogical cleavage gift-wrapped for an highly com-
bustible ink that ignites the book of imperfect nights.
Windigo breast-feeding into a doorway Te last curve
on the left leads to your abode, the Heron clicking, pine-
sapping, knife-wielding password. Te fear of fading be-
comes you.
82
Te narrative? A fetching perversion in the colonnade
of exaltation. Soft, sticky fur rising mouthward into a pre-
cious oblivion. You cannot help yourself, my pet A
novice girl in the tumultuous stature of creature gemology.
Aspire in the wings. To ricochet
Even chaos is fragmented, by curious fngers, tongues,
suspended in basalt and heavy with vertigo. In possession
of her cries, monstrous observatories.
83
Tat scent which unhinges the writing glimpse, topples
a sense of poise, obliterates, in the unsettling, elevating the
elemental penetration. Disappearance, precluding, disturb-
ing intrusions
I swallow the ghost of your misfortune, a pure joy
Hovering rags punishing theories, entering a zoning
blur, a parallel pause tucked into a female chamber. She is
the smear tactics of a lucid scheme. Te latent context of
an erotic silence. Precipice of a solar raven, solar trapeze,
an often-quoted solar food Your attempt at whispering
inside of another, climbing backwards out of a dream.
84
Te stroke of sun on the membrane of the long mirror
fulflls the lunar fuidity of longer nights, blatant intrusions
of an ancient dialogue. A free-fall into wondering, a time-
lapse surrounding sound of womens words falling, drop
by priceless drop. A sculptural dizziness.Te severe jutting
of a heavy breathing, to polish the edges
An utter terror, a lifelike message inside your demise.
She insists on your discretion, or lose everything, even
where life is an unlikely presence. A shadow thrown
through a triangle, a sense of urgency pontifcates.
85
She is a fre drill, a deeper sounding. A central dousing,
a fery air. Te ashes raising a woman in the molecules. A
fre-grille Tat surrounds you, passes through the appre-
hension of your brooding, body-prey into superior illusion,
being, brightest air, wind and spark. Tide-sphere, fint-en-
abled, word-heavy
You conceive of their isolation when absorbing all that
is perceived, for your survival in the roar of flling vessels.
Bathing in mercury is another dimension of natural selec-
tion, a distinct advantage. Spreading tungsten with eye-
lids
86
But is it darkness, my love, or the radiance of a prism
black as the emulating landscape? Tere is the heaviness of
bleeding under the witch, a tusk of elegance. Primitive
torch pulled out of a dream, covered with scales and meas-
ures, your interception. Her ferce grunting, capturing a
face, enslaving suddenness. To funnel saturation, inducing
crisis. A primal scream the color of carrion under a starry
sequence of last minute details.
I swallow the ghost of your containment
87
An unavoidable caress, savaging for the breath of ani-
mals spiraling out of control. In this there is the distillate
of stroking for the Rapture of the Veil. A darkening animal
time, salivating on your face, deep in your eyes, from other
lips, exfoliating your body, slowly brightening your lan-
guage, taking time apart, breaking words, raking the sense
of touch over ashes, germinating in blood
Te navigators revenge, a secret landing site
88
Incantation with venom, squirting stars, during that
diurnal moment seemingly forever adrift, and then she
studies her features as if she were blind. Te reiteration of
a glance that reaches and spreads, the mirrored image in
the velocity of continuous presence You leave your
shadow to its own devices.
Te wind understands your eagerness to rush with it,
to surmount the craggy perfume of nearness, sloping
against the freshness of a natural intensity. An alien swoop-
ing that utters the sure anomalies of a salamanders ten-
dency to capture the force of a landscape, swallowing it
whole, your mythical gesture. To announce your destina-
tion even as it dissolves and scatters.
89
Te terrorism of an unstable word elbows the equiva-
lent equestrian into accepting a shrill embrace. Its a draw-
ing. A food of emotion. A Queen-aroused torch badgers
the consciousness of voyeurs unwrapping the presence of
their locations in space A loon, a lack, a lynx afoot,
tucked into invisibility But, what does it mean? Its only
a portal that stretches the desert into a mirror And then
beyond, a heavy breath that forms your elder disturbance
even from a greater distance.
After birth, a spark-yielding mist, a twice troubling and
irresistible solution
90
To relinquish a doll-like sustenance with an agonized
delirium, you may recall the sinister faade and feel empti-
ness, abandon and devoted frail maneuvers, but many
times over and know nothing at all worth mentioning.
A Masters shadow would rule over lunar pitfalls, and for
enchantment there will always be the return voyage, the
kindling, precise measures taken into consideration. To fail
is to burn even brighter. Arc-weld circulating
Te turquoise lady and the shadowy fgures would
come to soothe your losses and haphazardly placed
columns sunk into the shade of wins, dividing to form a
seagoing chamber, as the women come and vanish, in the
unsettling burden of whispers.
91
To mask the face for the body of lighted candles, is to
food the intricate needlework of taking control away from
the deer-fgure, replacing a dark slide, turning downward
through erotic procession. Word, fgures. A light-fgure
protruding through the time-lapsing of a secret writing
kept hidden from the author. Te fguring wolf intact and
fanciful initiation ignites the fowering upheaval. Ambigu-
ous in the darkest harlot-code. Or, between street and anx-
iety, fogging the bridal tree, facing the two-way mirror of
archival swaning. Ten the clash of helmets mirage into
weaponry.
92
To deploy the polar bodies of indistinguishable attrac-
tions and repulsions, there is only the feral blush and the
tantamount to perverse commingling, to even the score.
To destroy the enemy.
Far removed from a scene, your fngerprints are every-
where. Having no language to afect consolation, you never
speak when spoken to, yet arouse without a word. Secretly
laying your eggs in silence
93
Te random hoarseness of a word unreasoning, a land-
scape, of a portrait, unmasking an even deeper conscious-
ness, surging, forging the curve of horns that clash,
resisting. Te night then, yours, it comes out in your
breath, staining your lips You form a dark sentence alive
with intuition, insistent, impregnated, spitting sparks
implications Te unseen is warm and glowing, and with-
out reason.
Each dimension raises the tissue of perception, each
continues and sustains what has been and incites to be
under every possible variable, more than simply nights or
days undone. She understands this approach and the lost
translation. Te black and white radiance of interruptions,
the pandering hagiology of embedded quartz, the wise old
hummingbird fascinations.
94
I keep forgetting the names, uprooting triggers, the food-
ing fash. Bent in an eager position, slipping nomadic as a
necklace strewn, fngered, refecting the sun, I replicate the
opening of cracks spilling addictive sap. I shed the interweav-
ing, spilling out, pearl-handled, dove-shaped intervention
I am your hieroglyphics
Teatre of mutation, following the caress. Movement
of the body following the hands, stillness of your shadow,
eating her way out of abundance and annotation, a babel
jabbering in Arabic. Priming the seizure, spawning against
the current. La Mandrgora
95
A tribeless hour, wandering aura, mirror within the
mirror. Te moving glow for an excess of casting type,
arched beyond appearance, a barely legible method in the
wings. Her menses green as silk and next-of-kin, your
lapses
Light is unreasonable outside of your body, struggles
with the lack of itself, invents, in a manner of speaking,
words to excise, exorcise phantom blood, bright lines,
miming desire in a quantum visage. Light hunts for you
once again, throwing names at you, for pleasure.
Te impossible gaze tearing your body to shreds, a
chandelier embalmed in the wax of galaxies, sinuous the-
ories and obscene contortions as endearing as anything in
the animal kingdom, sleeping further into light.
96
A solace of assassins between the lunar cervix of hover-
ing and the nest-powered voices that sooth in the preco-
cious armatures, those creatures for brightness that loom
and lathe each black word, your indentured negative, twin
cabinet so rightly awkward and foaming brightness. Te
aura roars, the wind tunnels, shows inward the winnowing
tracks, and speckles even now the vast you of your essential
evasion. Your gift
But for the otherwise slender bodies, above, left, where
the bees communicate their evening desires, and below, where
the golden hour fickers... a timepiece...
97
Amorous sabotage thrown from passages, divided by
the object of derision and desire. Fever of the landscape,
endorphin fash fre. Te mad fickering of anonymous at-
traction, leaning against the wall, thrusting against archaic
refections and memory, moving around in the under-
brush, striking against fint.
I am a seizure of light years, animal moisture beneath
the eyelids.
98
Tere is a harsh alchemy on the tip of your tongue, in-
vading the state of excitation and softly executed with un-
avoidable dangers, displacements Fountain of that
secretive center, vanishing. A thoroughly chilling sense of
inexplicable delight, a meaningless arrival.
Your shadow thrown, pinnacles into a mistaken iden-
tity, extracting a sunken awareness of regal disproportion.
A lunar pelvis breaking silence into the hemophilia of a
nightly charade. Angular in auburn.
99
Hypnos is a shattering device. A tincture of warring
presence. Into each veiled night of watching, there is the
rapidly moving glow, the salamandra cypher, the storm-
seed labyrinth. Beneath your eyes there is the anguished
red that dives into an ancient murmur
Her name is shale with a minus, ellipse with a Z and a
capital moment, cloven with a slender chance, driven far
underground for a parallel entrance that far outshines any
current theory regarding a distribution of weapons, the
shape of a lake that seduces your breath.
100
In terms of uncanny resemblance, a lush mating season
and a distinct biology of overlapping, the au presupposes
a tu and forms a portrait unloading all forms of resem-
blance. Tere is the quicksilver of absent footprints. In
lunar tense, a future pretext. A shearing trance...
A dust-bright glance of colliding analogies. And an
awakening, to shimmer and roar. Te inkling of a special
knowledge fuels the prowling.
101
Foraging through the cabinets of your shadow, where
projected ravishing clashes with a dawn-like body bringing
forth your optics heavy with the pollen of inexhaustible
nights. An acceptable ploy
Fiction is cooing in the glassblowers breath, now en-
trancing to the left, invading the landscape, allowing for
elegance to proceed unannounced. Te missing link is a
rattler, a clear-cut crescent projector who strikes terror in
the annotators fabrication. A word for the wise is not im-
minent
102
Te science of placing a locus securely in sight, for an
endless translation, night perils into the rapidity of the
prism that hallucinates your body.
A narrative follows the heroine, from the fre to the
contortions of a bathing ritual, extracting bones for a pri-
mal intimacy.
103
Te landscape comes out to play when the gamblers lose
their edge. All that is lost, having passed this way, severed from
black and white. When you choose not to sign your name
nameless possibilities beside yourself, a rebellious and shim-
mering ghostly facade.
Te gaze is perilous and inconclusive. Razor-bright in
approach, the raven-lock in the orchid-eaters face...
104
Your body is an eclipse of magical properties, a multiple
exposure.
A nightly desert watching to decline above all, unearthing
the cry, the wail, veiled in magnetic fuses. A marauding medic-
inal sapphos of the old condition and the messengers aberrant
voice. Shocking the long-drawn out shell, into a form your own
hands convince into a mortal wound of radiance.
105
A body of starlight, a windup universe striking a win-
dow, facing the heavy silence of a cobra-esque choreogra-
phy. You are wise to the word, deep-seeded proportions of
anxious fre, telepathing in a pinch of this and that for an
unlikely approach into crystalline and fner elements,
haunting an unlikely frame of reference.
Presence, overgrown with light years, carnivorous for a
method of solitude and streetwalking, divining, capturing
an unsettled distance. Te motion of perpetual fever guid-
ing distillate into a highly active state of ridiculous con-
trivance, a marginal hovering, throwing magnets into the
chimera of a passing fancy Tis way moves there unan-
nounced, subliminal leering.
106
Consciousness is the sleepwalkers oracle. It sheds a host
of structures, tinkering in eyes that resemble and cling to
an underground translation of endangered species. Exces-
sive, austere and secreting gestures of a sublime luring.
Her shoulder blades cutting through mothlight and
pleasurably stained with a light-headed circumference, in
a greedy sipping motion, under a touched presentiment of
devious presence. Leaving absence, to arm itself in your in-
explicable warmth.
Te interloper's delight, disfguring symmetries. Te
book of resemblances follows no fctive impact, only the
volcanic ash in the herons dialogue.
107
Heraldic containers, vesseled eyes. Twice the body of
the two-way mirror, collected at night and bound, for
pleasure, charred words of a sudden forking from the earth-
bodice of a double-crossing.
Light is breathing through a night whining for a distant
oracular pandemonium. Heavy sighs and bright wishing
of colliding spirits.
108
Pregnant and sufused with landscape, the water-break-
ing mare giving of sparks, outside of your dubious other-
ness emitting rain and lunar tics, ofering bilingual
disrespect, precarious being-breach teetering on the lacuna
of reckless caressing. And the plenary in the lack of evi-
dence to redress in another era, the she-lark and the phan-
tom shape of the heroine multiplied by lightning and sea
wrack. Te emulsion and alloy of your faded photo-
graph
109
Te science of placing a locus securely in sight, for an
endless translation, night perils into the rapidity of the
prism that hallucinates your presence in a nearby feld.
She is the unmasking, veiled with the hammer and the
plumb line coaxed into disbelief as far as the eye can see.
Heresy of the loom, darkened by witch-light and the ut-
terance indistinguishable from slaughter, brighter than,
more graceful than, and delicate, insurrected An infam-
mable tattoo.
110
Proceeding in secret, lost continent, taking delirium by
the throat. You enable to disgrace into enchantment, as it
were, wolf, the operative word veiled beyond any reason-
able doubt. Menstruating light, scraped by arrowheads,
your signifcant other, balancing a radiant anomaly. Water
burning on stone, taut against a lucid contrivance.
111
Towards wood, a stairway of cells and hivepoints,
moonlight in scentbeds.
An evasive window skittering across hot stone, axolotl
membrane.
Projecting mannikins into mirrors, for the salamanders
of identity...
112
Te anxiety of a candle provokes a slipping through,
what is not an articulation, merely a new contrast of a more
primitive invention. An eel-song of merging profles. Pres-
ence ignited, with night intact, forging a secret document.
An entrusted alliance. Te purring of interruptions, be-
tween reproduction and spectral indecision. Your bones
humming and clicking in reassembly, pivoting for a con-
vulsive space. Te cylinders of a senseless beauty.
113
114
Conjure, bright spirit. Tere are spiders in the sance,
and a cross-wire to open doors very quickly, for heavy
breathing, and concealed weapons, and medieval sparks...
that still wander in the early evening hours, even now, sud-
den recognitions, desperate distinctions. Ligatures of in-
toxication. Te heaviness of light bears down on you,
making waves...
A desire for cruelty presupposes an extreme sense of
childlike wonder.
Interlocking armatures, erotic destination, under Kali-
orchid, throne-like and violent in a manner of speaking.
Locking apparition of thirsting pinnacles that key in those
haunting illuminations of animated clothing, breathing an-
imal structures, fast moving exclamations. An evening of
Siamese twins deeply embedded in an ever more intricate
faade of clarity.
115
Dusk is a steal, honed by Masters on original stone... in
a costume swindled by thieves. Between the swallowing
rubies that leads the procession, to the shape you enter
into when cornered in a threat, light-deep in nitrous
chipped perfectly into many distinct arrivals. A stirring
spine.
Covered in wax and launched spine frst into an adverse
dialogue, your calm is a spiral clawing the agitation of mul-
tiple fxations, identities, eager insinuations. Not one word
according to plan, not one accession to simple emptiness,
not one law, only lightning, the edict of your life.
116
Under the cities grilling, l'arc obscur des heures, grind-
ing out the rigidity of a single conjoining, harsh pinnacle
that speaks to you, glows in peripheral fnery. To circum-
vent detection. A phantom touching, unknown torches
devastating the slender territories.
Te Solubles in silent fight, wingless antipodes placed
one upon the other were never without bringing fresh
weapons to bear fruit. A glaze spread heavy for identity
waking waking out of light a fawn-colored gelig-
nite.
117
Tearing movement out of glass, salvaging the
epitome of a mad dash, the dreaming hound of a body-
centered food, pawing at supernatural entrances.
Fatally abrasive, timeless invasion, the sun is a refection
of your shadow.
118
You are the other of yourself, the shadows brighter her-
itage, dissolution astride wonder. Crash-landing into the
exorcism of an impossible landscape. Te spinning table
of somnambulant pinpointing. In light of all that resembles
you, hovers to imbalance, compelled to devour a
hideous coaxing, to fower Te shadow of time, your
mirror slanted towards the sun.
After the fre, there is the melancholy of rapid vessels,
luminous vessels. Longhaired fery vessels and the invisible
ones that struggle to destroy you and plant darkness in
your place. Black containers, sovereign extensions. Te ro-
tating spells of a conscious efort, the antithesis and the un-
relenting amorphous loam. An enigma is the sudden
interruption, the unfnished cataclysm.
119
Instead of a precise rumor, the exhaustion of desire is
the revelation of a painfully slow altering. Te fickering of
a vague sensation forcefully shed out of hiding. A capillary
boomerang.
A glance that fowers on the earth cannot be heard
without that infernal fre whispering out of a darkness
aching for your name... your name fares in dark clothing,
for a word of precarious solicitation. Ennui, wandering,
torch. A duplication of her lucidity. Te wondrous silence
of a fresh kill, acknowledging crystal, to erase, arousing to
assimilate. In absentia
120
Mandragora piping, a dust-blown frame, a sputtering
constellation that remembers your bodily presence as if it
were only yesterday. A latent thread issuing that treason of
uncommon attractions for a hidden communion, living
text, a force-fed signing, in waves. Te tide, face She is
a fawn-shaped, demon-quenching sister, a surrational
schemer, this dawnspark and every dawnspark thereafter
dragged out into the desert to conceive.
121
Lacuna, the hummingbird approach. Chandelier, em-
balmed in the wax of galaxies, strangers. Te falconer fol-
lows the moon full of evasions, tips the hat in the manner
of a rare Ethiopian moth, the most voracious aleatorical
muser. Tere is evidence of projecting arcades. Te glow
of markings and changes, and at point-blank range. A pre-
cise and delicate nature, a dangerous background.
Invisibilities, among thieves, stolen. Light burning dark
in the core of a tremendous gesture, moving as a tree of
bridles, groomed, flthy handling. A marvelous stealth that
implants a phoenix, to surmount and triangulate. Abused
by witches, forcing doorways into tantrums, changing by
nightfall into something absolutely dazzling.
122
She is always the evidence, that scintillating bannister
curved into a corpus de plume of plenary deviations. She
always takes by force, dismembering migrations, heavy and
swollen, bright and disastrous unspoken wizardry equals
in estrus, in aurora, a short-circuit in spawning.
Into the familiar phantom, afnities of rappelling land-
scape. Consciousness moves, watching, to being watched,
to avoid, nomadic with intent to alter, conspire, into an-
other, place and shape, crawling out of the fre... Your mes-
sage: that you are still alive, still mostly flled with blood,
and in possession of marvelous weapons.
123
To condemn and renounce, to fuid, for substance, and
sustenance, to sustain far into background. Incognito, in
objection to whatever. In excess, to food. Leaving arcane
markings. King to Queen, scythe to X and the seminal sig-
nal to scatter spores, disparaging remarks. Setting star-traps
in the marrow.
Wait for me in the happiness of the hound licking its
eager prey...
124
A twin-faced divagation, a Janus-sapling for an irre-
versible arcing of the spine, spitting out only pleasure
against the wind, in a word whispered, a furious disclosure.
With the Gila, the wise flament, embracing the headdress
of a telescopic seizure, across from a dream sequence stak-
ing a claim. Where you are scattered on the lake, interrupt-
ing the sun, remembered with lapses, auguring, numerous
questions dragged out of circles and an unrepeatable ad-
dress. You were never here, only a shadow a howling sen-
sation, a drop of blood still spinning
125
Sunlight is the result of wolves, not far from the trian-
gulating bloodstream of intangible acrobatics serving to
narrate a revenge of statuettes, edging out of that unex-
pected winning streak. Attraction and repulsion are revers-
ing directions in the vertical linen of a wilderness
landscaping your almost efortless consent, to moonlight
inside the empty orphan, the one who dreams defantly,
who silvers in absence
126
A predatory dance, a simple adhesion to a vast network
of interlocking artifacts, enhanced by suturing. Te win-
dows are dreaming, measuring forms of absence and sud-
den arousal... Equidistant to the Master key turning
seductively in an evening lock, emitting sparks and seeds,
and the rituals of bright birds, futtering tongues seeking
liquids gathered by moonlight.
127
To apprehend a dark insane beauty, it is necessary to
forget
Tere is no philosophy worthy of your body, which is
without form when it dreams, lights the fuse, declares an
uncertain sense of victory over exhaustion and doors that
refuse to close. A theory emits tiny crystals for illuminated
marksmen, consoling the alpha female in her dousing, sift-
ing for gold and other arrangements.
To be extinguished, to be continued
128
129
A narrative that discloses nothing, lacerates the word
veil and buries bright teeth in warm places, covered in
nightness, the moving glow, overlapping. You throw pin-
nacles the way darkness rises up out of the earth, out of
your sleep, your wandering, and without warning, the in-
tricacies of desperate conjuring.
At wits end, she encourages arson. For light, she trem-
bles uncontrollably.
Te wedding guests assimilated into a fgure of mid-
night, rattling into acts of in-depth silvering, blurred fea-
tures, edged by extreme clarity. You are the pathology of
her followers, only more obsessive, more resolute, raw. Te
ritual acts of bright craving provide endless interruptions.
Te fowering occurs within an astrological sign. She is the
waking of absence, leaving the door open to sunrise... the
moths, and the wolves
130
131
Te moment is untitled, mummifed by convulsive
aberrations, when you tilt with instant grace, to exceed the
muse. Your appearance of attending illusion, your stature
among shadows. You trace a manic disguise, hanging from
a fctional ruin, in another place, a barely indiferent solu-
tion for an obscene movement much too fast to grasp. Your
violations miming outward those infernal nights of haunt-
ing harlequins.
Tere is the unbreakable branch, her evidence, resisting
that contrivance known only to those whose magical de-
facements inseminate the exiles, wrapped in a breathtaking
stillness. Te scent of a wrong word collapsing secret pro-
cessions, incantations.
Sphinx, moth, man, woman, candle fame con-
sumed, blown out by the wind. Nocturnal shiver preceding
the noire of extracting pearls, the tense of eerie confronta-
tion growing gold in the gaze that opens in the hollow of
itself. Transcending the inside of a room, the level of a ter-
race, the frst real touch of antagonistic sinking into in-
stinct, held intact by desperate elements
132
Otherwise, there is light in the espionage of arousal, in
cultivated thievery, the clarity of an image of greatest value,
a deep rooting. Explain yourself!Is it even possible at
this stage of the game? Tere remains only the muteness of
absolute certainty, the marking of a savage inclination, and
Youve kept your promise, now I can kill you and only
the excavation flls the void with a ragged foolishness and
endless whispering, facets, inklings, space torn to shreds,
light bleeding for eyes out of eyes, diving out of sight.
133
Te name of the author is missing, the language already
dismantled. Absence is a fre that joins forces with intimi-
dation, to conquer the subject for an objection, ruptured
horus, refecting meteors and the fatal analogy. Tere is no
fnal assumption, caged, in language when this is, will be,
becoming, no word whatsoever to desire the antler of an
unforeseen passage. Only the ferce disrupting scent of ab-
solute presence, arcing for shadows...
134
Te outward arch settles with the inward curve and
hovers, a swaying incest covers the fction that begins any-
where and takes you way of balance. Te soluble hum-
ming of gamine motors that avoid detection, reaching the
night above with the most delicate lures, and setting its
bodily functions in the bed of errant propellers for a daring
contrivance.
Your tempting, the tuning-fork sewn into her mouth, pre-
cursoring a magical strut, a wave aligned with a sudden half-
breed constellation, a raven of dust, molecular introductions,
a kiss that beckons a dawn-shaped contamination, a perfect
ritual that cannot be denied
135
Your refection seeking a face other than your own, or
what fears your body diving into a shadow that splits into
numerous arrivals, assimilation in a brazen feld of totems.
You assume a network of Mogollon footprints, soluble
memory of danger preceding the solstice of a door, or a
word that manifests a perilous breath clinging to the wall,
on the other side of the street, where Te Howl of the
Horn still sleeps, without a cover, without an introduc-
tion before the advent of the imprinting machine a
provocative miming in the hall.
136
Te pleasure of conjoining is in the extrication... Pres-
ence arrives from a distance of many places, challenging
the corpus lucida of long drapes ghosting in ambush. You
leave a sign covered in negatives, antisocial behaviors, poi-
sonous fowers, gender conveyances, temporary locking de-
vices
Hemlock and ether, medicines for night fractures.
137
Te revolving body, the rotating scent, landscape in re-
verse, and Quickly now a face of plumes imperiled.
Against whatever foolish constraints persist in crisis. To
confront the fortune of reversal, sibilant as a row of knives,
monoclinous like anything untitled. Te wise grow weary
with mythos and antediluvian, clamoring in sects, numer-
ical systems, bodies underground. Te expanding of ap-
prehension emitting animal liquids, to become pale,
nightly and gifted: without a trace.
138
You are another refection between a sequence of mir-
rors, growing in rotation, in agonized light maintaining an
ambiguous sense of balance, spreading centuries of unrest,
sparks under the skin. Lightning tears up the landscape,
brightens it the way your eyes open, the way blood enlight-
ens the desire for indelible motion and the growth of fre,
your shadow tattooed into primitive language.
139
Tere is beside a loss of consciousness, when the morn-
ing swims upstream, the bird of paradise revenge to shield
your tenderness, the mannequin pueblo that throws your
gravity into disarray. Te lineage of nomadic tribes swing-
ing from century to century, morphing into incendiary
mirrors, your source, ancestry, powder cask, caste of casting
out, arcane enabling of lava for an uncertain number, on
an unknown street, for an unspecifed reason, the glow of
body, being in the shape of frenzy, undercover of darkness
lit up by lightning. Always, everywhere a hazardous dry
run
140
Te chronologist does not know himself among the
others, only a partial glow in the wood: I bring the sense of
fear, the long-bodied spectre. I bring your apparitions into
arousal. And I bring ferce inclinations to devour your inno-
cence emulating the hasty retreat, then circling around
the here and there, defending an appetite for disdain. Tere
are no words for this assault, this mating season of inde-
scribable disruption, a tyranny almost, a slight of con-
sciousness spreading voraciously in the feld.
141
You, bringing a precedence to an aching heaviness and
THE PERFECT NIGHT, the marvelous yawning, you with-
out warning, to proceed untouched and cunning, the beau-
tiful assassin, the germinal springboard, hidden in the
deserted courtyard, dropping into theatre, stretching in-
digenous for a last minute solitude. A mired and primal
amusement overfowing in ether.
142
Te powder of La Phosphor makes a fne weapon for a
revolving door, a facade of soluble presence, a minefeld to
understand your motives... in the night-foot hills, scent-
colored lynx lighting up the desert, in the central portion
of a dream, arriving in a conversation of visual disarticula-
tion, dystrophic unveiling, black as fre as a disconnected
sense of wondering.
143
Beyond recognition, unstable childrens games, when
the witch is on the tip of your tongue, coveted in nightness,
the moving and fugitive glow, overlapping gamut of essen-
tial desiring, your shadow passing through the ghosthouse.
Te humming sleeps, still humming. Murmuring dreams,
still murmuring. You chisel yourself out of stone.
Te latent catastrophe of a window following certain
involuntary gestures, the drapery of curses forming im-
promptu escapes, dazzling escapades occulted under glass,
over ravens, through the Netherlands with infrared and
traces. Te waterfalling is your implicit recitation, repeat-
ing implicate. Burnt at the stake, to recall a sudden im-
pulse, being lived...
144
Aspects of prediction, reasonably troubled, perturbing
the edges in a quandary of caresses to outline the inner con-
stellations, fragments of silence to raise sirens, a species of
phantom to contain your body, intact and bewildering,
and albino. Te torn layers of a ghostly body, the necessity
of an encoded species that forms the nervous system of all
that swims and then dives, jarring the bell, somewhere
Your identities are revolving in the archives. And voices
among the runes...
145
Time narrates pinnacles, struggles with light separated
from its source, following the movement of closed eyes.
Your hesitations wander of while you sleep, and they linger
for a long time at the edge of a dark and ravenous cabinet
of desires. A salacious object collides with itself, horn-gath-
ering and bell-toppling, when the teller avoids the tale for
disreputable pleasures renegade voyeurs flled with
ghostly remains.
146
You kneel to prey, with the sentient e of an invisible
orifce, antlered in the middle, in the howling talismanic
window battling rams. Your arrival is the dress of silence.
Your dress is the chill of unlimited questions to even pecu-
liar answers, a balance of blonde and black solar oranges,
prelude to a harsh body of language, thrill of the jungle. A
cult feld, placing bones inside a starless night. Primitive
artifacts of rotation. A native loss, dj vu of gyroscopes
147
Tere is nothing in language, to shatter is a veil, a bar-
rier between what is desired and what is perceived as ne-
cessity. She kins for the glazing to nail the gaze into
contaminating statues, for sudden movements. Impulse
aligns itself with intonation to incite indignant denial with
possession, spelling the body of a raptured incantation,
when you whisper in your sleep.
Te Antigone of mistaken identities, the mandibles of
serene devotion. Te windmill of what is vague and philo-
sophical, when only her methods of unreason spring into
action, ape into a waking state of reckless dousing.
148
Rapidly spinning a ghostly yarn that covers like fesh,
you soften under the cutlass, become rude and thrashing,
hungering cocoon and against her wishes, that larval about-
face. To regain each emerging retinal backlash, the leveling
Bakwas of her space whispering through the raining,
dream, stain. Te withering and torch of molting, the hys-
terical patina of an evening stroll, forcing the quick of
pleasure in a wake of light, for such fundamental and pre-
cious fur-covering. Wake, wake the walking
149
Te number of dimensions in a sudden spread-eagle of
delight, the mirror follows the moon every chance it gets,
she plays with herself, chasing your refection. With canine
devotion, she devours the sequence of time.
Te long gowns provoke a profusion of breeding under
layers of language, and eloquence, a rattling gate, the def-
ance of your hands, your heavy breathing, shuddering
down and released, declining recognition for an entangle-
ment of hissing.
150
Te landscape fowering inside, the wedge, wound un-
folding outwards, the disappearances, desecration of the
image, in the shaft of bright, we are panting, encircling, al-
ways diving, to repeat ourselves we are the tribal camp-
site, the vessel penetrated, compromised, for desire and the
burial grounding. A shipwreck of meaningful words
I can intuit the blinding strike of pure solar compromise,
but I cannot accept only my movement unhooking from your
night. I demand the sense of returning to feed, and still more
feeding
151
Te stilled blade of recognition, your hawk-whispering,
black spark of anesthetic that makes you tremble, to un-
settle whatever pose, still, doll-like frozen, to inhale the
landscape, draining blood, inherited, distillate of perverse
gestures, mydriasis, fondled beyond reasonable doubt
Into the spirit of the emulation, disguise becoming soluble
in the profound darkness of the mask, the light. Te silent
numbers of procession Portals follow the moon with
barely visible aquiline features, whispering bones.
Landing on water, an equation of chalk, a vague corse-
let of iron, turning oxide into solar debris, her mouth of
hallucination, backhand slithering of the lamprey staking
the mind for a soluble entrance. Te embrace of absence,
forcing metamorphosis. You have not come this way be-
fore, alive or dead, and only the half-light of a stealthy ar-
rival
152
She avoids your spelling, revises the shape of your
breath. You reject the equations of her solitude, ofering
salamanders and fery glances. She slips in between
episodes. Your voice-over exceeds the limits of each se-
quence. A somnambulant language, passages that disap-
pear
A name given to a shade causes a sequence of veils and
fngerprints, when the act of resuscitation compels the lan-
guage of others, other than yours, which enters through
another.
An impossible dilemma, the mirrored image of an often
deserted plane.
153
154
Adhere to the sacred rupture, the ravens in your bodily
image, descending darkness with unapologetic candor and
slabs of memory invented along the way. Te fundamental
elements still hunting and always stirring just beneath the
surface. Dressed in venom and pinion, you transcribe the
starry night onto more than willing fesh, plunging deeper
into impossible silence, the loudest wail. A constellation of
contradiction, breeding through silence
Sunlight is the result of wolves, not far from the trian-
gulating bloodstream of intangible acrobatics serving to
narrate a revenge of statuettes, edging out of that unex-
pected winning streak. Attraction and repulsion are revers-
ing directions in the vertical linen of a wilderness
landscaping your almost efortless consent, to moonlight
inside the empty orphan, the one who dreams defantly,
who silvers in absence
155
Your decisions are the result of shadows lifting out of
water.
To refect the sun is the loss of consciousness preceding
the animal kingdom. Your life remains intact, a luxurious
analogy to a lunar tense. Te language of feathers, acts of
fre.
Te image always rises, seeking fresh blood.
Coming backwards in time from yourself, you remem-
ber precisely the state of your departure and the sorcery of
your ventriloquist habitations, sleeping within that frst
night of tender perversions and the slippery elm of falling
ladders. You ofer what cannot be taken from your image
without drowning that droning invisibility of a snipers
perfect fnger, the musing of an aim, a target ofered out
of desperation, a kiss rising out of a throat, to light the
way A life that deserves to be ended, a birth like a rico-
chet into mist.
156
157
A predatory glance approaches the angle of stone, while
emitting the trance of a delicate spirit, among numerous
variations impossible to describe A languid debacle in-
timidates a distant clamor. Te hum of fading vaguely re-
sembles an exile into moonlight, to level the feld.
Magnetic gesticulations throwing paradox in every direc-
tion, numbering each random disfguring, and the efort
is not to split the diference, to endear the hovering with
bodily fuids that invoke, subdue and echo. Casting
doubt
Te dizzying rampart of your eyes, kiltering deliriously
of center, to a night of royal fabrics going up in fames, a
central narrative linked by synaptic monoliths and tenta-
tive refusals. Analogy to a fowering pelvis without equal,
the passage of reconnaissance, dipped in auburn.
Repelling, attracting, a wrecking glow relinquishing
whatever control you still possess, moving the center of
gravity by measuring the speed of seduction with the iris
of a continuous onslaught, and then thrusting deep into
insubstantial contrasts, with no explanation, without a
struggle to evade, a group of words revolving around a
question mark, an irresistible antidote, plowing uranium
into the book and the hypnosis of beyond the trees, going
down. You and the landscape in the mirror, among all the
others passing through...
158
Te impact of sumptuous details, the secret act of a
slandering craft, shaping your lips into utopian proposals,
fusing the ragged dress of an ancient star to the anvil of a
childhood lapse into cobalt and tabletop fngering
Hands go deep into your eyes, further down into the body,
grappling for blood, and light, and secret weapons rais-
ing statues against mythology.
To resemble anything, everything, to present as para-
dox, the shimmering of your absence scavenging among
silkworms and trembling, within her eyes of solvent, fxat-
ing in a fctional state of warring, without eggs, slaughter-
ing out of memory, sight unseen, the dissonance of the
hawking, without wings, launching an invisible constella-
tion of gestures. A parallel pattern to a dance, in defance
of conscious decision, speaking of the sun
159
You are a text on the tip of a poisoned fnger, a stutter-
ing before an unmistakable killing for passage, a mutation
of utterances, a mechanism for musk that rings a bell be-
neath your dark spaces. A breath of ritual slaughter
where the long ones rub kindling for the more susceptible,
prurient ones. Scanning the immediate of an interpene-
trating aurora, she sips, you, ridden and reversed, night
rose in a glowing body. Paradoxical springboard.
She is the observatory pointing out the diference. An
aboriginal spiraling, thrashing separation, darkness fowing
from your mouth under a spell of waking. Sighted for a
cult feld, a bonelike trapeze, merged with lightning
160
Its not the same, the shadow keyed into the lake, a can-
dle inside. Each fortuitous manner of portraiture sends a
glow up your spine, pulling gold out of each refection that
unravels, hardens into stone, as mercury mirrors, murders,
raises magic, makes a woman, gates, shims, lessens, exceeds
any choice of a random scaling, pinched between land-
scapes, spread out, sliced and vertical in a wondrous sense
of arcing out of your eyes.
Te hovering Abracadabra of an exquisite approach,
untouchable rigging between breathing and darkness.
161
In the salt mines the union of a more diabolical nature
takes place ahead of schedule, in the forgery of excruciating
gestures, surface maneuvers exposing their roots in the
word-womb, the kith and kin of subterranean marriage
rites. Te alias in the wormwood. Sienna, the perfect crime.
You are another gestation lit up by the sun.
162
She empowers the moth by sharing it with the interior
world that precedes an unexpected eclipse, flthy chrysalid,
kissing. She mirrors in her gender, the ingenious force of
shifting gears, in the moments before an educated fre. Si-
lence gives birth. A dark charade of ratcheting to embrace
the hybrid glow of your shadow, scattered water-wise, laid
to glow, whispers, ashes. Your body is burning paper, a bru-
tal gaze, losing the thread of a text, an otherwise forbidden
equation that awakens your breath from a great distance
No longer just a memory.
163
"I intrude, I place the mirror of my presence between us,
dissolving between the brightest of phantoms. I rotate against
the winding of your devious rapture, consenting, I ingest those
alembics that derail and contrive, to alchemical giving and
taking, coming and going as no one else, ever, always, unre-
lenting
164
165
Eurasian spindles, tuned into wolf-breathing, with gifts
of lace, taunting words, warm animals humming, crushed
charcoal mesmerized by optical patterns that break up the
morning sunlight with long envious movements. A parallel
arrival by special courier, changing in the mirror, double
aspect of a sidereal glance, twice the asp of a decisive
move In this fanciful thrust, you darken your eyes, striking
designs to enchant by force, taking out targets
Her death on the red table, belongs to it in rubies, the
amorous fury, articulates throughout the scope of her pre-
cious bearing among the nightmares of each photograph.
In the ecstasy of your favorite portrait, in the melting wax
of a negative approach, the earthquake and struggle for
power, chased by devious motors, motives or chandeliers
both rebellious and masked with anxieties, or then come
to life, startling and amused. Arriving from after, the pos-
sibilities, the ram-facing, grasping onyx by her fearful horn,
laying waste
166
Te jagged rocks commenting on the water, surround-
ing delicate intrusions, entering a higher level of distrac-
tion, covered in myth and melting wax, the quai beside
yourself, taking it inside, recreating everything lost outside
the text Concealed and extinguished, the rattle of ill-
suited clothing, the shimmer of feet making haste to heal
the distance between the mystery inside the mystery and
blood from the heart, leading to the left, to evade the re-
vealing Te owl-brightening makeup of announcing si-
lence, enabling a secret luminosity.
167
Your eyelids are heavier than stone, you enter water
going down, fint for sharing, and from here on in, the
mandrake transmuting an identity that cannot remem-
ber your name. You follow the herons, or time follows the
largest birds, the brightest ones, and yours are the darkest.
You follow your own, otherness, above ground level Your
body is heavier than an image of great unrest. Swimming,
or sleeping Dropping a fortune, a mirror, the guards
the timing is perfect.
168
Te heat from the birds drives you crazy, unfolding an
amorous casket for the slender Gilgamesh (grafting soli-
tude) via lacerated patterns of nearness, the ones that keep
shadows from exceeding pleasure. From furies into lan-
guishing, stealth into extraction, into graceful incendiary,
into artifce and shipwreck Mirror into muse for the
conveyance of an empty vessel, inventing the shadow of a
presence, the negative of an absent gesture passing through
empty rooms, manipulating secret matters. To be flled out
sideways
169
Primal footsteps looting, the matrix portals slipping
psychological contortions into retinal slivers, your move-
ments are precise, languid, ensorceled, developing the
bitch-paw cloistering, convulsive cinnabar of deepest night,
bearing, inwards, the blood of the text. Pulling sleep out
of open mouths, gasping for light.
I swallow the distance between you and yours. I vantage
in disguise
170
Having eyes to sleep, feeling absurd, spreading where-
abouts and fabling in rich detail. You touch her face, turn-
ing in light, while she evens out the fow, nightly read and
rich in the lunacy of a sudden move, disappearing with a
certain reality, away without leave. Speaking only of silence,
whether light or dark, flled with blood or emptied. Lan-
guage is an illusion on the loose... Believe no one outside
of the other. Trust the sirens. Presence is deeper in the
morning hours, held together by a theory of dreams
Light is the body, dreaming itself
171
Her lapis, an outrage of space. A tempest of stone, into
the reciprocating of dark vessels, the ones that arrive out
of nowhere, spreading dark matter where your nature ex-
pands, vessels disconnecting shadows, undoing your shape,
dispersing joints into traversing pools of increasing aware-
ness. Cutting glass against the rules of division, setting
numbers into motion against indecision, a dawn of excep-
tional motives, emanating fuses, explosive devices. A long-
since ghostly urge striking blind. You let her out to keep
the blood fowing
Sign of the triangle, furtive, without returning, elusive
with an animal grace and precious, where the images are
no longer false, the hands smoother in reading past the
scent of a long-stemmed glance. In spreading, strangling
A painful hunting stance, haunting in a reciprocating mo-
tion, licking mercury of the mirror, to see with the mouth,
out in the world, alive.
172
In light of fugitive dramatics, a harsh glowing sensa-
tion, a seizure of symbols, the quicksilver of mute ladders
and inconsolable companions. To undermine the wise and
difcult schemes of authenticity, you attach yourself to a
dreaming state, a projectile of mist But, whose likeness
are you?
What comes after light, haggard stone she speaks,
the spark... visibly invisible... Each desperate attempt to
entice a crucial crisis, waxing Medusa. Hoaxing
173
Whats missing is the sense of not knowing a chosen
faade, from the friction of even a sensible direction, the
slander, the score, the shimmer. Rumors persist, while the
design ofers only a temporary gestation, a bloody revolt,
an unreadable message, unsettling spirits manipulating the
sense of nearness. Moving to blend, striking to confound.
Assault. From what remains that cease to confuse. Where
the wax-woman lives, lupine striations Te endless hag-
gling, the candle-swallowing, dark eating, talismanic
174
Treading each selection for acute proximities against
aggressive numbers, shadowy and seductive numbers, those
in the ambush and the clustering. To repeat the shadow
and the refection as often as necessary to afect an unrea-
sonable glow. Where variance is the opposite window,
opening the double-cross, throwing magnets to destabilize
the arrival of appearances. Where they are visible only in
the dark
Vessel, optical Eros facing friendly fres. Spread so thin
you are resplendent in the blackness of the rain, edging
light, disassembled, as you spread your thighs and feathers
visible only to touh.
175
176
A chaotic arrangement of bones inside of a starless ges-
ture, a wiccan paw at the moment of refusal, pollinating
the side of your face. You are the stillborn ritual of a hybrid
persona, tipping the scales in the ulterior direction.
Your eyes propelling the pollen of panthers, leading the
ghost of a scent, sending messages, in a sense... to emulate an
eclipse is the animal kingdom breathing on your eyes.
Perturbation, bright poisons, invisible key. To glow and
pinnacle in a space, to tragic in a maze. Both sides of a tri-
angle, the reverse of a circle and through the forest, throw-
ing a forest. In an asymmetrical circular motion. Taking it
in deeper, dressed in a fssure. In this unexpected condi-
tion, in printing, a desirable luminosity.
Even in translation, your peregrine shamble resembles
those constellations that make the darkness vague, severing,
the arteries, grand art of the mist, that follows her shadow,
does not follow, sufers the orchid, the riddle, the Veiler,
scattering Night, invisible twin...
Obsession moves with deer legs and a hackneyed cloth
of lightning, a vessel-shimmer moments before sleep. A
ravishing imposition, pooling in a rapid storm, intervening
arcane.
Tere were torches, suddenly
177