Page 31 - Iterations:Other/Is

If you have a boyfriend, you can kiss her, but you will pay with your hands because the person with the penis won't kiss anyone . Turn to page 65
to doubt all the words. in disarray, a language of grief constructs a labyrinth from mollusk shells, lamb bones, the slanted stems of cut (owers for a farther funeral. From the white space a voice collects itself; itself a product of the singularity, free from arteries, bundle branch blocks, the electric jelly time machine which can manipulate hours under the guise of guilt and other given nouns — a Strega lights a candle from the hull of Desiderata under the strawberry full moon —
We were on an open-air (ooring slab in the basement of a house that used to sit on a piece of city land—I think we were in the late 70s, probably late 70s, somewhere in the area around 70th and Van Ness. There were maybe 30 of us seated in the tiny apartment, the (oor was (at, dark, and covered in dust. We were all sitting there watching the other people's work as they were doing. There was a TV going.
I think I have a bit of a problem with this divination, and yet in the end it was a nice poem, and something I wanted to share with Facebook friends. After all, it was a poem about being in your dreams, a poem which was just written with my voice, but somehow I can only get in some small parts of it,
in these words
when your eyes shut, your eyes open
your eyes closed, your eyes made into spaces of detritus
and there is this old man who says of dead men the day's end has come —
who shall go with the moon?
in it she’d wear and hide
her mare's milk for she's no fool, her
wrist watch daises piled on forearms—wristwatch daises round a sling of cluttered thought, Hair daffodils from night sky on neck
wristwatch daises for eye to nose bridge
spit-drop of light for #nger to #nger cross
And here they hold the head as high, so low, not their eye
and so high they sit without a face;
they dare themselves
to leap far out of place into
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