Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Particles, ya Musa, are indivisible. We breathe them as we sit here speaking of the True; we've a part in them & know not that we do.

They coat our tongues like a womb-left film; left by whom. Ya Musa, our language searches for a whom; O there. We sing the particles in the name of a smother; in the name of a moth air; in the name of ammo -- fire. Whatsoever we sing for aims there.

O, you of water, what can you know of mater; how the undivided open their mouths to say "I'm there."