we wrapped our dreams in words

and patterned the words

so that they would

live forever


He wants to name the unnameable and hear it named.

He wants to see himself as a personality instead of as a person.

He wants to see personality as an inexhaustible mystery of the signified

separate from the mundane closed-off simulacrum of the world-sign.

Sure it’s complicated, but anything to keep back the heavy hand of immanence.

Sure it’s only a poster, but anything to keep from getting sucked up in a tornado,

a void where after you come down, you have to decide all over again which is which,

what is what, and who is who…

There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away

the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about

because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and

somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

You will hear that she has left the country,

that there was a gift she wanted you to have,

but it is lost before it reaches you.

Late one night the telephone will sign, and a voice that might be hers will say something

that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.

Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone

in a doorway who looks like her,

but she will be gone

by the time

you persuade

the driver

to stop

You will never see her again.

Whenever it rains you will think of her~

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