“Nights in which we would like to have our hands behind our backs, and in which it is suddenly understood that there is no tenderness comparable to caressing something that sleeps.”
-Oliverio Girondo

the austral mouth of the night like a tie of amorous darkness
      the nocturnal cry of the burning gaze, ethereal woman
       the tongue of the night is the tongue of my absolute love
forty-nine year old body I love you and you do not know what it is to face the pains of pores
a life inside a corner
night is the cleft that separates bodies
night is the vulva that screams and tells me to go away

Cesariny told me in You are welcome to Elsinore: “And there are night
words, words that groan”
I need these words now

November 19, 2017