justification of the other being

BOOK III
PLATO’S HEART

justification of the "other" being


41

if a building brook runs
lie down under the stone, under it
to take the sum out of the game
to surrender on the eve of defeat
in this unthinkable percentage of liberties
in this flurry of objects, this ridge of debris
of the self and other unconscious things
where there is only that which remembers itself
that which can still say, "I and others"
that which summons the battle
that at the beginning of the fight surrenders

lie down under the cold stone
let the guilt tear the body
and the light, which of course is always ahead
will tell you the story of darkness


42

we owe
but to whom and what?
for what and when?
probably
my lyrical hero is out
so let's just tell it like it is

I've been contemplating suicide for a long time now
I want to see God and ask him some questions
"oh, sweet Chaos, are we
at all, or is this all just a game of thimbles?"

yeah, yeah, I confess, I've been wanting to put a needle down my throat
                for a long time
with a needle sticking out of my flesh
so that the blood would wash away the tears
to finally answer

we owe because
we are indebted, and that's the end of
the dialectic/logic is over
because our whole life is just
a credit taken from Death


43

we're just elephants in the desert
going nowhere, in stasis
watching the dead stars
as they fall on our faces
as they split our heads open with the apocalypse
how nothing and nothing at all, out of nowhere
nothing happens, it's been a year now.
everything's stopped, the meaning factory's closed

we're just elephants in the desert
we're stuck, we're an oasis
what we dream is not that important
what do we remember, we don't remember
only the dead, sweet stars
shine in a screwed-up space
it's nailed to Genesis with little screws
that bleed with the verses of my heroes


44

I'm dragging, wading through a pile
of piled bodies lopsidedly
to find something in them

that at least has a name

I walk through the steppe bas-reliefs
through fields of barricades, resolutions
to find something

any mention of us

I walk through the scorched geometries
in the footsteps that are leaving, the murderer
to find something

to unravel nabokov's cipher

I walk through comets and countries
through darkness, through faces
to find something

but I stumble upon shakespeare's rotting corpse

I walk through all the spectra, the sciences
all the excuses of light
to find something

something beyond the darkness