If I said, “Yes. Oh, God, please. Yes…”
and spread my velvety thighs before you, what might happen?
Where might you start?
When might we end?
je l´allumerai pour toi…
32 flavours…
follow the light…
I have my version of this fancy.
It’s a poem of, oh, say sonnet-length;
it’s supple, undisrupted. It feels like this:
I close the door. (Behind it: gabble
and disjunction.) And I walk into the clear,
black night. I’m in a great arena. Nothing
can be seen – there may be nothing to be seen – except
of course for the ball on fire. That’s all I need.
That’s all: the darkness, and one burning sphere.
And I follow its light down the field.
-Albert Goldbarth –