~1998
So when you stick your finger in your belly button and twiddle it, and
you reach that place at the bottom of your belly button and twiddle it,
and it's like the twinkling at the start of the universe, that's a
chakra ...

And the silent radiance behind your brows, that holds the water in your
eyes, is a chakra ...

And the dark hungry root of the world, where globs of food pour down and
turn black, the dark creativity you don't think about, is a chakra ...

And the small bones in your palms hold something like the soul of a bird,
that can speak out with bright songs, or quietly folded together like
nesting birds they are warm to each other ...

When I saw you in the dark you were almost like a night sky, with deep
spaces of luxury and darkness filled transparently with the radiance of
the stars, but a night sky covered with language, with language like a
rippling fabric dripping down.

In the shadows of your brain there were plans, and you drew blueprints
and slowly you erected a world that I could not even see with my
dreaming eyes, All I could see there was grayness, a mute speaking of
existence shaped with thin blueprint lines.  You had grabbed the world
hard and squeezed it, pushed it into shape and not kissed it.  You had
slapped your thoughts over the sprouting earth, and your frozen
thoughts lay heavily on the earth with an old deadly power,
like an old and childless king.  I could pity you, pity the
long dead children you left on the earth, but you had made yourself
deathless and the lines and the pushing hard planes of your world
surrounded me and you were beyond pity, as hard as labeled stars in a
dead black sky.  Your plans for immortality still push me roughly and
I can't even see them in my dreams.  Your buildings are all that's
left of you.  Empty buildings.