I didn’t come here to repeat myself. I
don’t suit that doric order stutter
of the self insisting
I I I I I. Night wind winding
round the columns isn’t that embraced
embracing. I wasn’t built to live alone, Aegean
weather clothing me. Whither
the lover coming like a lover,
when called? First a second person
then the second person, where
the first reclines hypostyle. I do need you
to be intimate with difference.
For indifference I will never feign
toward a thing. Know that it’s the no that
makes you possible. Night wind
issues through the curtain. Ingress
of footsteps on the steps is you now,
is you anymore and always.
O hand me the lyre, baby.
There you never go again but once again.