really believing
two of the greatest
musical quivers
boundlessly
I burst quite sick
into history
with how many heads
always holding symphony,
art otherwise despair
consider one literary
thing, make it your bed
and invariably perish
simultaneously with every
thing else
really believe
an absolute nature
factually accused
of producing
nothing
to be a seer
more indeed than describe
but misconstrue
into artless paralysis
walking in reality
but in truth
to bear torrential
truth
do not enter
a tree or song
but life
life, nay, breathe
into something featureless
who knows what reasons
mysterious dissolved them
as examples of this process
merely accept this object
as contour groped in darkness
possibly decades
in the making
itself a memory ago
where I promised
to write language
as crust enveloping
experience
Beyond Language 