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Three Fragments
I.
I will remove my face and under my face there will be another face just like the first face. I will remove my clothes and under my clothes there will be a reservoir of light without sound and sound without light. I will touch this spot here and a perfect octave will ring perpetually like a hardened plaster mask of death, like the death mask of Beethoven, who must have been shaking his fist at the sky. In an orchard, you will find a tree, and on that tree you will find a fruit, and in that fruit you will find a seed, and in that seed you will find a microscopic rendering of Moses at the top of Mount Nebo but you will never see it because instead you will plant the seed and it will grow into a tree and on that tree will be a fruit and in that fruit will be a seed and in that seed you will find a microscopic rendering of Moses at the top of Mount Nebo. This is how promises work. II. My father told me what to do if you are lost in a cornfield— follow a row till you get to a road—and if you get a flat on the highway—drive slowly to the nearest exit, doesn’t matter if you ruin your rim, never change a tire by the side of the road. Also, when a man and a woman love each other they hug each other in a very special way. III. I am as alone as the sun. I am filling spaces with space. I am holding the scarecrow prophets at bay. On the self-shaped skin the graceful beginning, the graceful end, a warm envelope of ecstatic resignation. |  |
