2002-04-08 - 7:10 p.m.
'People are not only, as the saying goes, falling for the swindle; if it guarentees them even the most fleeting gratification they desire a deception which is nonetheless transparent to them.' - Theodor Adorno
Near-Blind Wise Men Touching An Elephant
Over-mature night
And every man's in a towel.
The maze in Babylon;
Every corner's
a tripwire of sensations
that proves less what you touch lives
than your tremulous, breathing hand.
Once a friend entered another
same place where they found
a body with cum stains fresher
than it was. What the fuckers
thought was submission to
a silent commiseration of skin
instead claims companionship in
skin's ignorance, its inability
to reach beyond where each sense alone
falters, beyond the thing itself
for its faint corona, where the dust
of some faith lingers, like a smile
with ends that soars barely
discernable in some deeper cavern.
So we wander in the dark,
feeling a pec, thinking here is
a bulge from the burrows of love,
a dick is a river streamed from pleasure,
an arm is the right hand of
the hiding hills, when mapless
we turn in circles so tight
if the lights came on
we might find our hands
wandering on the animal
landscape of our own skin.
