Page 72 - Iterations:Other/Is

but it’s all prostate gibberish here in the cellar,
an etymological hoped for otherwise, known as, deferred hiss, the diamond thumbnail creaking door
the waking page both old & new
our mountain made clay
molded in silence
the house with its dead and living
and the stone's like glass to a marble bowl
and we all sit around that table & drink the wine and make love with that knife & the cup &
& listen to our mother-in-law & sister-in-law whispering in the house and not knowing how to stand out
of dust, of love, of not really understanding
& when the moon will come back into the sky
& the moon & a man will stand on a hill - headless, they will ride on a steed of stone—
feet of smoke,
arms of (ame
when your breath comes — it still comes—
there's a reason you're alive — you’re alive, it's not what you hear
you can't see a place where there's a place
and where there's a place, there’s an ass,
one with a steed full of water for milk one with salt for a #sh, so a dog will jump and come