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The body in its hyperthemesia

I want of you as shapeless.

Speak of you, rather.

Mete you out

mobile, figural.

Touching-along life in

its track of stays.

 

Body abstract yet ambit —

 

The contains of you

The absorbs of you

The vivid of you

The pernicious of you

The tilts of you

The tends of you

The with’s of you

 

The “is-what-it-is” of you.

 

Body the

mix of its own order alert. Me

drawing you the body off

in this direction.

Or that, forward, back da capo

 

A term for forgetting is:

“Stay but

go from where you should

go, and stay here.”

 

Stretch those arms up as if about to.

(Reminiscent awful god muscular

And the need that turns)

There’s two of us.

How I missed you.

 

Posted 03/11/14
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