still counting

the broken pieces

of night

building a net

like fragments

on my hand

incorperating

a corset

which begins to glow

and in bowing is caught

before the monument

of a memory

which liked

to make

the fish at the hook

a symbol

of love,

the wriggling state

of transformation

of elements,

one bite

it is a favorite

in boundless energy

and yet

getting away

from the rod

or

it broke

or

was cut

with

a splinter of night

proving

worse now

than right before

coming to land

finding myself

in an

even larger ocean

the transformation

being one

breeding itself

and devouring all

creatures

it had needed

until then and

for yet another birth

devours them

drinking the splinters

which had only been

the shimmer

of drops and puddles

of existence

and gets an urge

to jump into a river

which is no longer

me,

state

of an

undirected eroticism

which

makes you light up

the only condition of which is

to become

even

more complete

more absolute

…

at that

what could

your loss

be more

than

the nectar

of my growing love

whose fire

consumes me,

whose flames

nourish me,…

 

this is the ultimate

that goes

beyond the

you and me

to coming creatures

merging

endlessly

at my gates…

 

glimmersplinter

on a river’s

waves

where

I

empties into

something larger,

in the

splinters

of night

which like a

monstrance of hope

melts

into the

adventure

of a

bigger

day…

 

to be a lover

among lovers

who recognize

each other,

drunk

with their own

embers