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- I couldn’t see you yet. You were right next to me, so close, eye-atom, unfathomably close, but I
- couldn’t tell.
- Pin-prick portal to yourself, you could be seen only through you...
- So when you appeared, (terrified of losing u that moment) I looked as hard as I could, nailing you
- with my gaze; arrow, I fell, exhausted in the wound of your being.
- Coreoplastic magnet, I looked even closer and noticed you weren't you: zooidic kisses sticking
- flesh to ribcages, and floating in nothing! But you were always more than you: a teardrop that
- was a rose that was a blade, a body, a city... your reality was ours, mineral, emerald, "diamond-
- rose-mine." So faithfully I carried you that you didn’t seem like what you were, shrinking always
- from yourself, burning space-time worm. Eyelet opening into new day, waterfall falling on
- yourself, smiling-dummy-child-running-fire, shining like a whale turning in an immense ocean of
- night.
- And my gaze would go plunging down, drowning in days permeated by your absence. How many
- days spent thinking you'd gone for good? Gray dragons limbed, withdrawn bodies I'd traced.
- And then the sound of armor falling from your body. Sleak silver dog-shield that is the
- weight/parade of everything that isn't you, falling from you: curvature of your zero-face: a wing
- (your living wing): falling toward orion's fire, sheer pull of the future (you are your own futurity,
- grace nested in yourself, curled up in your "own foolhardiness").. machine of your dying away,
- always child of something, child of your own withdrawnness.
- And how many times I became confused by a new voice that sounded like hail, feculent, meat,
- gravity, kisses, nothing. "How could I paint you without the colors you'd given me?" I thought.
- But you were the stuff that all your non-stuff was floating in (the husk I once called u): diagenetic
- blood mineral running through objects negated with names (u always survive your name).
- And the silvered afternoons, the light of hands and forehead, your weight cementing my
- consciousness like massive pillars holding up highways to you: pastel in the dusk-light, rendered
- in your own distance from yourself, behind your bridges, aggregate horizon, clear ruby vitamin of
- my own becoming, glimmering in the gray ash of event/ throes of our impact, and still even
- further, again I can hear:
- the sound of armor falling from your body, so far away from yourself this time, so clear...
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