Speaking With Authority
I'm writing this to adore you. (In the subway, there you feel breeze.) I'm writing this to adore you, in the subway, There you feel breeze. I want to be opaque Because I am. Like so, and like so. Nothing that is in a crude shape demands To be chiseled-at; there begin to be Sparrows in the gate. There are “Effects Of the analogy.” There is MEAT. I’m writing this to adore who, in you, Is the voice of Law. Permit me. Permit me to address it. I want to be opaque Because I am and don’t want to be. Don’t stare at it too long. Assign me, quick, to clerical positions. I want to see the bureaucratic aspect of this sky. I want to know the trick of two variables, That brutal metaphor about pirates in the Andes. It’s the same gimmick used since the image of the apple— Hot, seductive apple. “Exponent of Earth.” Can I write about something other than writing. Can I write about something other than writing. Difficult. In the rubble, there you feel breeze. Unless there is a muscle for it, it is an implausible act. Can I circumscribe something other than Circumscription. Very difficult. Unless there is MEAT, One takes place elsewhere, at the hand of everyone. Then there is no forcible entry of information. There is the yogurty smell of beachgoers in the supermarket; In the supermarket, there you feel free. The subway tonight has anger. Anger and rage from everywhere. Spitting. The spitting up of everywhere. Praying. The instinct to pray. There is a muscle for it. Permit me to address it. Permit me to address that muscle. Muscle used for plumbing one’s vocabulary. Muscle used for sentencing one’s son to death by drowning. Explain it. Your coworker’s facebook post Starts thank you for Everything you do for me Cuz he’s a guy and so of course A gravity, (explain it,) if it's not An agency then it's a gravity And if it's measured in neurons or Microns or cigarettes per week Then it’s measured in the absence Of an originary theme, what remains of course Is the rumble of variation, Though I do still have the urge To walk by your parents’ house Every morning until I know What you are thinking about. Why do I wish to be an orbit? Nothing is “composed.” One must come into the situation having “Values,” having “tenets,” being that The neurosis remains opaque. And there is no refuge; Nothing can absorb it Or bear this rubble. Nothing can impart what is sold back at a premium— The adoration of Law. It’s already in me. And in You, reader, who are that furtive animal called Structure, are what in the thick rain remains habitable. Let me. Let me.