Thursday, December 26, 2019

A Woman Being Briefly Prismatic

You step into a void or is that I cannot function without a woman being briefly prismatic? That damn manger, that penetrating star. The day after Christmas is perhaps the night in which we remember that even the idea of order is predicated on order, however obscure or effaced. I think of you who are as yet unsettled in any geography I can name, and wonder what you will do when you realize my not-unearned skills in cartography. Spirit is what the body does when its goal is to see the spirit. To what music do we dance when even in early winter our legs won't work? Our ears hear but at such a distance everything sounds like a whisper or a flock of pretty birds flying away. Nobody is as cold as they say but that's because words are to truth what a shirt is to skin. Let it slip, fall, let what is revealed by revealing be revealed. When we are correctly naked and only then no song but sharing will do.

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