implicit in the sage are acts that mark the arrow; they mix deep thought with the shallows, a presence from which he pontificates on life’s time of death. and all at the hands of a language that has quit on him.
if he’s struck by anything real, it’s her subtle movements, they, along with voices, mediate his darkness, put wings on sex, move back and forth in time to simple words playing tag behind one side of the poem. the other, unrelated to sides, is out probing beyond time.
he wants to be the edge that’s occupied by the spaces words go to die, where their fates volunteered.
but, where’re the ‘whys’ that inform the ways things are, or seem to be. he hoped wishes would understand their roles in it, and lengthen the distances between rejections, so, the where, and why, could own their absolutes. and not feel a need to fix his, which were perfectly fitted to the eye’s mind.
and they heard no reason to sacrifice sanity for a poem: righting wrongs made the rites words practice less sensual - their presence is what touches the self as it reaches.