Me Death

~ for Daria, Eleni, Fiona and Robert
after RobbinsChilds' C.L.U.E.


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 down

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 ex-

tricated 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
pomegranate 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'

power 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.