Thursday, June 19, 2008
I know little outside of desire. Outside my desires, to where I’ve been lured. Another desire convinced me I chose. Another that I knew what I was thinking. Each one wants satisfaction. I want congruence. I: 1) a mutuality, 2)walking compass of iron filaments. My life is a magnet wrecking ball never swung. Memory only serves penance. I don’t repent. When I swing, I’ll know I’ve been hit. I’ll hit nothing. Simply pass close enough to align each splinter of iron in the direction of swing. My body of curves and swath. The building will be demolished past nightfall, just after the abandoned bathroom ignites a silhouette in the chest high window. Bulldozers are giant arms of comfort. The rubble an unlit pyre of failed pyrotechnics. Fourth of July all over me. A war virgin. Afraid of fireworks.