photobooth at the Andy Warhol Museum 6/2
Gravity and Center
I'm sorry I cannot say I love you when you say
you love me. The words, like moist fingers,
appear before me full of promise but then run away
to a narrow black room that is always dark
where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,
devouring the thing I feel. I want the force
of attraction to crush the force of repulsion
and my inner and outer worlds to pierce
one another, like a horse whipped by a man.
I don't want words to sever me from reality.
I don't want to need them. I want nothing
to reveal feeling but feeling -- as in freedom,
or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,
or the sound of water poured into a bowl.
--- Henri Cole
from Blackbird & Wolf,
which I am reading this week.
I'm sorry I cannot say I love you when you say
you love me. The words, like moist fingers,
appear before me full of promise but then run away
to a narrow black room that is always dark
where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,
devouring the thing I feel. I want the force
of attraction to crush the force of repulsion
and my inner and outer worlds to pierce
one another, like a horse whipped by a man.
I don't want words to sever me from reality.
I don't want to need them. I want nothing
to reveal feeling but feeling -- as in freedom,
or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,
or the sound of water poured into a bowl.
--- Henri Cole
from Blackbird & Wolf,
which I am reading this week.
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