Friday 4/22/2011 12:32:00 AM

Flesh is the contingency upon which depend all of our desires. Love is the profanity that they are spoiled by.

the years are benign. puzzles solved long ago, broken again into those same pieces. blackboards to erase. And scatter their contents to the wind. we never remember anyway. all those things we learn when we weren't listening.

just stitches in the soil. the clench of old footprints as we forget how to walk. damp fists. pounding flat what already is.

time is data. evidence. stored in this jury of skin. drowned kittens conformed to the shape of the fist. touch is the mortgage this life is borrowed against. desire its treason.

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