December 14, 2004


  • I succumb to her as a goddess, because we’ve never met.
    (it’s safe, you see, her radiance reaches
    across space-time-mind
    softly luminescing, never scorching.)
    She is a lover: alone, distant, mysterious—such with her suchness.

    ea est et barbara, et mihi cara,
    splendidus igneus, sol muliebris-
    movens me atque, procul penitus

    Last night I listened to the radio Geminids streaming in,
    impinging on the frequencies of nothingness
    with soft twangs suggestive of guitar in requiem.
    From yonder, did I imagine, they were arriving-
    pitters of worldly unworldliness,
    the dust of a solemn lust, goddess-cast.


    * the sound of a geminid echo

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