to count you amongst numberless heavings
(smally colliding) of human voice thousands
screaming all dimly numb voices into dumb
voices numbly dimming(stars like innumerably
dying flicker less fast into darkness but still do)

would be a lie more truthful than living is truth

for though dying flicker: you burn

(and i whisper into you a very tiny spark;love
which ekes through your cheeks black wine
freshly distilled instantly drunken beautiful;flesh)

hanging on a petal of deeply sepaled night
(pearling dew) a sigh escapes across fields
of mute flowers up tumbling mountains reaches
stupid immortal silence and fear nothing hands
for falling though stars, silence, mountains, muted flowers, human voices:


YOU