It’s hard
To think

Out loud
And be

Present to
Whatever, who-

Ever might
Be there,

Here, I
Don’t know.

I just
Doesn’t know.

*

The Body
Is virtual.


The Body,
You know,

Is not
A known

Thing or
Social construct.

It is,
For sure,

A sentence
Or wilderness.

*

The precision
Of thought

Is a
Sad illusion,

Is a
Haiku trying

To be
An opera,

Is a
Film trying

To be
An organism.

*

One has
To try

To do
The impossible.

Or just
Try to

Make out
With all

The palimpsests
One can.

*

Writing is
The weirdest

Archaeology one
Can do.

*

Where can
One go?

What is
Our Project?

Are there
Any answers?

*


It comes
To sex.

To rubbing
Against others,

The frictive
Sometimes fictional

Others one
Can’t help

But want
Or want

To be
Occupied by.

*