Under the spreading nanna we
wish while we untangle
the old bidet
us with nanna laughing
turning away
signing the act in the act as if
it was only up to our necks.
Then. Oh memory, carapace of waters
(timescales flashing:
the butterfly of spring
nestling)
NETS CONSTRAIN US. THERE IS NO FINAL UNTANGLING.
Time and space shells, a tango of selves
and other
things traveling
and in it, time beating, contracting
But big mamma, rooted and bedizened
the purpling banana hanging in her shade
interpellates....
an infinitely frightening bodily form
the stench of what was beyond us
or so the doctor said.
Things get pushed, flushed, diffused
simply being in them is It
the laughing with a buddha with a belly
All untangling all
imagined. And no laughing matter
it is it is it is
the Modern Man's butt, you said?
Just another body rolling over
signs spewing
what a mess
To be free in being not-us. Oh, to be
forever untangling the net
we're tangled of.
Knotty, knotty nanna,
goading the glinting fish to her turgid tango,
laughing with the buddy with the big belly.
How not to get lost in the nexus?
There IS a sign in the bidet!
The final untangling escapes us
and Louis is riding towards us
as we ride the troglodyte parade
(Jay's in it too!) Hooooooray!
would you please send the email?
>
Judith Diamondstone (732) 932-7496 Ext. 352
Graduate School of Education
Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey
10 Seminary Place
New Brunswick, NJ 08901-1183
Eternity is in love with the productions of time - Wm Blake