Book Description | “It is as if I am on a permanent date with her. Here is the earth completing its cycle. Here is time that produces an apple. Shall we meet? I did not find anyone but a woman going. I did not find anyone but a dagger coming. As if in her footsteps the surprise of death comes suddenly, as if I were on a permanent date with her. I was late.. I hurried.. Your emptiness is filled with the moon.” Do I love you, or do I breathe? I wait for the lips, or the thunderbolt? Your body has a voice that reminds me of birth. When I die (and it is my habit to die a lot), I was late and rushed like a thunderbolt!... And I write about a country and others occupy it, and I draw a horse in you and others steal it, and I write and draw... Your arms were the light of sadness and flowers. I used to return to the earth. I used to fuse the stone in your palm, and your space was filled with the moon, as if I were on a permanent date with it. Here is the earth completing its cycle. Here is time producing an apple. Immediately there is a hand that caresses me once and kills me once. O time, be its hand so that I can see you. O time, be its hand so that I can see it. see her |