Six Poems

Studies in Secrecy
The secret we don't know we're trying to find, the thing un-
                                                              seen,
is it ironic? is it a sign of anything? - raw
                                  vertigo
the suction point of which we now are trying to feed
                                         our lives
into - the point devoid of ancestry, the bullioned point,
                                           so sleek,
dwindling yet increasingly aswarm,
the chittering of manyness in it as it is made to
                                            clot
into a thrumming singleness - the secret - the place where the words
                                                        twist-
we are looking for it everywhere -
we look on my breast, we try the nipple,
we look in the gaiety of your fingertips, the curriculum
                                           of caresses
...