SHE
(when I propose myself to my own desires, it is because I have become an object for myself, a moonlit narcissist with a mermaid's body to which a certain kind of attention compels my lover's gaze, into whose mirrored and mute immobility I must now introduce the lasciviousness of a dreamed unfolding with all the elements of everyday experience retained after the expenditure of physical and mental strength throughout the day to produce in me My Consciousness, this fixation on perceptions not dissolved by disinterest that will situate me in the somnambulant language of the unconscious, and with which I communicate with myself through loose waves in the formless, nameless astral luminosity that acts in the unfolding --- a small struggle here (perhaps, Clarice Lispector) to "not lose all consciousness and enter," incomprehensible, into that flickering tremor of lines and dots of so much seen and experienced (and READ!), from whose phonetic fragments emerge (is there someon...
