Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Ex-clamans



My writing always risks an encounter with death.
Lover knows terrible Angels. Pursue pain.
And Lover yells against-against-against-
bodies are chaos bleeding till No River

my nothing becoming mine through the Heat
my writing always perspires late saliva 

Exclamation, off skin. Mouth burns Text.
Last Song over touch. Nameless Nude.
May I sing You, Mouth? Off skin. 

Nothing is the Angel and river
Touch my breasts of letters
Extremes between void longing 
Utter my Name in layers of skin
warmer than extreme birth  

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