Saturday, February 19, 2005

One Kiss

Begin to suspect that all this transient is just warm-up, is someone with a blunt needle, haphazard stitch-up. And sometimes when we're jagged we could slice through to the new floor, the next roof. As Ginsberg Mad Yak himself said, "The call of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe."

The kind of kiss I have in mind is unadulterated, will not check itself, will not be forced to withdraw. A deep-graved Greek said Time and Space were kept hungry glued by love. Here shuffles the idea with unsteady beat behind it, but definite beat.

Figure that we have been flung dumped pinned in Truth, and this, I kiss, is our only tangible word. I stoop so low, kiss the Earth, but not like John-Paul's cold and dry for the crowds, I go in with tongue, exchange saliva and dust.

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