Your method is cool & patient & you are, but underneth the exterior, a
body that keeps fire burning for a wanton sensation
is it need of skin that lights this
night fire?           Above, eyes closed
          descending
                 toward
                       me    & retreating    you mimic the waves    I

will  crave  this  when  you  are  gone  long
for  a  reconnection  recall  your
form  its  outline  revealed by gas station lights/everything leads to the
                explosion               then fists unclench.   As close to a wave we've become.

Points  defined   something becoming more familiar       visions
of you in the lotus position    naked    smiling
light shoots from teeth
give me more     give me your
order.    The order of curves & urges.   The order of night & the way
to prolong craving
your profile   is lit  by afternoon sunbeams/generates a vibration immediate.
              On  the  grass  outside  you  say
              high on the drugs of our glands
              & getting higher   eyes closed in ancient rhythm, toes curling  trouble
              far away & small.
              Below  us  the  retailers  have  no  idea  &  keep  selling  shoes.

In
the  café  pleasant  &  patient  in  its
narrow  corridor
&  surrounded  by  wood  &  ego
the  method  is  patience    awareness
ample  evidence  relayed  by  posture  &  interaction
              in  that  grimace  there  are  a  thousand  stories  but
              the  one  that  stands  out     you  surmise    is that    he is
              lost     &  she  is  pointing  a  path  further         somehow
in your mind    you sense the first itch of rescue in
the legs    or plumpness of the forearm      almost
forgotten   is the sense of warmth  generated by the unity of two
              in ancient rhythm   toes curling    trouble far away & small.
              What noises & sensations    another wave overtakes   it
              is  true  you  are  more  wave  now  than  particle    you've
              recovered the subtle vibration underneath the gross sensation of survival
& freedom   is an afternoon mood
there
is
no part untouched tongue afraid of
nothing  inhibiting  the  flow  of  juice  what  follows  vibration      no part
untouched
by the fire tempered by tender touch    fists unclenched
your  breath  slowing  now      your  method  successful    a pliant universe    your
presence  all  that's  needed  to  fire  the  wick  again.

6:48AM—8.21.02
Starter phrase from
Reversible Monuments, pg 151
Elsa Cross - Form
(For Roberta)

Letter 12—August 21, 2002 After Wanda Coleman

looking
back is against the advice of the right-handed sage
         no good says Satchel Paige. They might be gaining on you.   A
           laugh that starts in the stomach
             yet erupts    shortens breath     you've done it again.

in recognition of the folly of anicca unheeded
this moment heeded (once again)   in   this   transitory   illusion
rage also begins in the belly
of another cancer patient personifies
ghostaxis     the science of avoiding light
& seeking drama   a charged moment    perhaps a barroom-style brawl to
snuff the misery or chase it down for a while
erotica be damned    there is a fire here to extinguish    if I
              can not get mine / nevermind this transitory illusion
              one river once
              art of high-stepping
              rescue the vibration of waves underneath
              another gross sensation.  Misery
              in the folly of impermanence & another stock market
              decline.

vis-à-vis American materialist culture    a disaster silently craving the Mother's
hydrotherapy    it is a lohar    a  leftover
& part of a glacier spills into the warehouse-encrusted valley too late to study
long-term
flood
survival    you swim or
highjack a former lover's fantasy
it is survival   old methods re-enacted   don't shit your pants
one's need in America is remember how to breathe
              only the air might be poison    ozone-alert
              guarantee this ain't California   & that
              the ship of fools has a commercial moment that sings the answer. This ship
              will
              dock at the next McDonalds. See if you can get seconds.
mayday screams the possum before the shiny rath of the red Chevy Avalanche.
am
trapped   rat-like
in
a cage of my own design    a
bag
of sensations   the game marionette-ish   but only as
false as ignorance of impermanence will take me.   Look @ the
positives:  the car becomes dirt & blackberries before my grandson votes.
              on the sensation
              covert your reaction is plotted
              travels underneath skin     you can't even watch your breathing
              w/ closed eyes
              self-obscured
              circling waves inside
              airport diversions.
on the sensations
cruise the bars for THE MOST DESPERATE
control is an illusion
mayday! she screams     you pick it
up as love twisted   all deferred
to an urge what starts in the
navel  or somewhat lower.
          in aversion what begats hatred   it's a
            yellow-bellied survivor's way of  biting a
                lip    avoiding the pain  a brain in
                  service to sensations
                    mayday   you discover
                      under the pain is a mind-trick & another wave of the subtleist of sensations.
attack - an American strategem
by militaristic minds like my father     attack   it's a lack of
pink & the survivor's diversion.   Inside the shell of pain the
pearl of release
erasers all in recognition of anicca
              madam it all rises up   rises up   rises up & passes away. Watch
              the itch for example.  No reaction.  The itch turns to
              light  it  was  now  a  wave
              @
              the bottom of one meridian      a fist stops this     or the pointy
              end
              of an acupuncturist's needle
              this need   this urge   this regularly scheduled flight is a bridge or
              tunnel out of darkness.   Notice.   Notice if you notice what you notice.
is it expanding or is the rot intense & setting in
a hawk flies by everyday    today direct overhead.   Could be a
streamliner this time, study the art of swimology    the heart-attack is
coming  or is it a sneeze?
head-on towards North of the number five
bring
     me     a candle colored burgandy
                    to forgive your sin of enchantment by skin.  Bring water from
                    where the river has exploded & tumbles over boulders, & watch how
                           my
                               blood
                                    runs.