A dialogue between Body and Shadow —
Because I am given form I can form it, like paper in the hands of the origamist, dough in the hands
of the kuehmaker.
Because once, I sought to fill the breach in the light.
But I want to elicit something, I want nothing less than pure feeling.
I want to know, what does it feel like, wind on the cheeks? Honeysuckle in wind? What does it feel like, all this hurt?
Though I comport myself, I can’t hide. I turn toward Love with all my faces bright, arrayed in
Before form was form there was the mold, before that the mold of the mold.
No matter which direction I take, always the boundary I come up against, I push at it each time,
once cracked will I give, spill forth goldly as yolk?
I, for my part, am like a library containing all the words of the world. I am the warden, and marginalia.
When the time comes I will be a star in Spanx, dizzying to the huzzahs of the crowd.
When you fall, my body, I will catch you with my hands, all hundreds of them.
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