It was on that day when the Names were not,
Nor any sign of existence endowed with name.
The most opaque thing is the body which you peer down at as from a crown.
Easy, however, to float off with the wave of a hand, a dream of oneness--her skin and freshets of eye contact, mouth or curves, the secret places.
Thus the ruminations and the trust, estranged valuations, the city coalescing as fragile web, the familiar trickling like an open tap into homelessness.
resemble a wrathful deity,
Copyright ©2011 by Michael Heller.