There is here a vertigo of the things we love & hate as a sex full of opiates & shadows

There is here a moon as an onion for the witches’ brew at the margin of the districts

There is here a special blood of the afternoon with fatal embraces

There is here a cosmic curse for being too alive and shining monstrously

There is here a dazzled murder of ourselves in a state of invention

A counter-revolutionary corpse with a scent of the inhuman genius

A congenital breath of possessing death as a desired nipple

I know I know I know this is a territory for mirroring digestive anxieties

The city as a warm scar with soft blades outside just as to open ardor and it’s corridors

Now I’m a fetichist whirlpooled in Mississippi’s mud

Neworphiliac as a chamber with dark lilies

I know I know I know

There is the beginning and there is the end of the beginning

The convulsion and the fur of brains & the skin of emptiness

The brutal sweet summer of drunken children

& the flesh of a passionate demon between worlds

Poisoned thirst & reconciling wounds & unborn aromas

& the purulent dream of the vicious wonderers

& the plasma of excruciating kisses

& the graveyard of solid reality gazing at hidden gardens

In each of us there is a cliché for profanations

& a repulsion for beauty through rotten diamonds

I know I desire I have & I am

I am a mad woman and you are my mad murmurs and sands.

New Orleans, September 24, 2010