Pleasing Are These Reveries
What was concealed
behind the cross-examination of the being,
humped into writing?
Going through the sonnets of desires
reveals the solemn moments
of special happiness.
Pleasing are these reveries
of the skin in touch, these starry order-forms
of private eternity.
The souls are out of breath - down to the feet
out of breath - in the rooms which do not pass
the sublime death.
That which is outside, that which wordly
sanctifies, that is too hard to be
adapted to a shape.
But it holds: in the word,
in the smashed gum, in the judgement
that contradicts others but not itself.
Emptiness, the trap of love, you
subhuman destiny of writing poetry:
pathology of expression.