promise

Dammit, it is meant this time: no more writing about politics! Some measure of, not courage necessarily, but...audacity! Audacity --this is just a mocking allusion to the new figurehead that everyone in the states so lazily identifies with-- is needed to post things which preoccupy the self and have no relevance to any of your lives.

The only thing that can be said for both poetry (literature in general) and politics --which is to say, that allows for some coherence and continuity to this conscious life-- is that there is a strong concern for things not said, or not said enough. And that the aesthetic impulse, more pampered than most any other (if your single, childless and largely without immediate and challenging social responsibilities), leads me to the agony of considering how the way things are could be so many different ways.
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Things as hidden,
the inexhaustible loved source

for the simple effort
of keeping some lost thing intact
or of fingers under the crotch

crotch as if putting on a mask
in order to dream.
Some omissions will be emitted

Some omissions inspire reproach
always
reaching another lost detail