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So, I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, throat–
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language
from the lips of monks
there falls the extolling
of conglomerate masses,
the hitherto, the and or but
a hiss, oversimplified
if in fact there
was to be a rebuke
it might go along
these lines, paint
yr damn picture,
write yr damn book,
love yr damn girl
the deconstruction was a painful process
a reinvention to open eyes,
to bitchslap, to awaken
a sideways glance might tell you as much
one drag leads to another, you say,
one poem to the next, levels exp(ou)anding
in the florescent light of Brooklyn,
neutral territory, strange and harsh language fraught with
real masculinity, a hard edge to all the plastics and the
baby boomers so neglectful, strange
how we ended up here
there's a sculpture of an angel
pointing her fingers like a gun,
French like us, similarly employed,
the "intended function of the benign"
a quiet like
lonely fallen trees
is this too loud?
in twenty years i pray
for you, like now, on this eve,
to be tweed clothed and wire rimmed
stained with the splash,
jaded, like now
a postcard, a photo, a breath
inhaled and blue
o sweet ruddy boy ten more minutes
again it's the agility of the dissonances, the clashing, c'est la raison que je t'aime
i will expose you
you are exposed
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