Saturday, February 14, 2009

Valentine, Between the Lines

Strategizing on the basis of exactly
nothing (more than whispered wish), you
shred up your affection: spread a fractal
spray of it out towards some faint desire –

prompted by a private iconography: bred
from the sight of a remembered pale tense
face – the sight, inside, not here, not right
now here in front of you, a secret sight –

which makes your senses race, the inward
sight of which, of whom, beclouds then
clarifies with its frank pull: everything takes
place between the lines: blank, full.


No comments: