Me Death

~ for Daria, Eleni, Fiona and Robert

It helps to fall to sleep listening to words poured out the side of your chest a paradise
it helps to listen to the sounds these words make broken down to their least elements
‘textual units’ to educate to heal the body in pain one asks ‘Are you suffering?’ you reply
‘I am always suffering’ to be alone at the place where I breaks from you consequentially
called back from our ‘blindness envy’ this must be Grace ‘if I be in a state of Grace then
may it continue’ suffering just to be HERE (Here too...) to continue being shot through

blood becoming place rides out the wine you will take that staircase discover you truly
in relation in that dark event you will descend into dark's likeness communicating voice
‘I want the body to be a voice’ a socius extricated from a content versions of the Amor
Fati all the hills had eyes in this gauzy incidence light winding away from life as they did
all that was East and West conveyed its ME DEATH in myths occluding an actual pom-
egranate a cadaver is to us as we are to this dance the supple intelligence of the dancer

for dance to be the case a couple locked in place two bodies for a field more erogenous
in not being 'modern' energy risks the body's borders interferent outlying our substance
forms the subject objectless in movement already an event what paper cups produce
center they threw their clothes into the abyss of being 'feminine' otherwise of-a-sudden
climbing from life in reverse climbing for their lives really falling while doing this so it
seemed two screens project the NO ONE we are when we move any center whatever was.