a third half-reclining on a sofa
with open limbs (Balthus)
the almond of the world
is deeply hidden
and still unbitten
a myriad possibilities shudder
around us which we idiots wouldn't
even touch
we never understood how pigeons think
two hand-spans above our head
what we have lost already is in play
before this body
that I am existed
a sea came first
full of little white rolling
vowels rattling: alpha epsilon iota
you'd say that even then
in the posture I had before descending into the Mother
I was shouting with all my might
. .
.
ael ael ael
ever ever ever
but no one was ever willing to believe me .
ll.
Ah yes despite my will
the world was made so that
I write as though I were separated from my fate
the almond of the world
is bitter and there's no way
you can find it unless
you sleep half outside of sleep
