• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 08
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Hits me
In the stomach
It does
The long-range
Is not so good
Should we jump
we stay
or feign
Indifference to this measuring
Of you more than me
Your outward projecting
Shall we disguise the birth-pangs of our multiplying
beyond the self-promotion we are glass-blocks in the lightness
of a situated city, the pools of blue and green tiles, the picture of
our fiction stays with me though you grow beyond me into the ghostly edge of shimmers I could my way though you over and over a carrying of hand-bags to the edges of our fingertips running halfway to the dark and into the ethereal surfacing of surfaces will we or won't we become what we are circling how the body grooves to the growth of it bodies indelibly woven together love curves love curves it holds us luminously together