Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Inscription Upon a Journal

To transcribe the heart as it were
(already done: in steady rhythm
the flush and flux
of aortas as though a sort of
a or b thinking did not
could not exist)
a wasted text.
The act of transcribing is
of course, translation
more moving when it depends
upon the ribs
and their actions as such
(the force and flex
of organic ridges as if rid
of a wave with which to ride
out the storm one must curve
in upon oneself eternal)
when not redundant.
To transcribe the heart as it were
is, of course,
redundant.

Nevertheless, I love you.

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