Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

48
v. Veil
Walk in hunger, pray in hunger, love
in wild bursts, airless gulps. Feel what
tremors about your skin, what watches,
what follows. Sometimes spoken in the
pink of a wanting cheek, laugh becomes
moan, thicking clouds, unthreading
nests. Look about, the beggar & the king
equally slave to need’s claw & sunset’s
burn. Look about, let nothing be which
can deeper teach you that you know
nothing, & still you stride. Walk in hunger,
love in hunger, fuck in hunger. Fuck
inevitably, die in surprise. Submit to
wisdom in molecule & feather, let the
strange dogs within scream & cry, whimper
& weak. Let the world’s hustles disappear
wholly into the sugar of thine heart.
Walk in hunger, thrash. Believe.
Say I love you: it matters. The world sips
at your song. Say I love you: she listens.
Within her a bell breaks & moans. Say
I love you to the night’s banshees, to what
strokes with holy intent. Say I love you:
she reaps. The morning glows & she follows.
Walk in hunger, hurry. Begin everywhere, nowhere.
Sing to her the heavy songs, white
explosions, battering lullabies, loathesome
bright things. Sing to her of secret want
dirty & delicious. The gravity & whim of
biting wordless things. Teeth across her back,
caterwaul for dreaming’s promised new
world. Raise her, shake her hard from
within, the room cutting blood & coarse
echoes for more. Nothing to explain love’s
sweet whore grace. Submit, hunger never
ceases, immolate slowly with her. Squeeze, empty.
Cry out to the sky. Let its silence tend you.
***
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005