installation 1

2 July 2005

––

my dick by firelight’s a
beacon
a pointer
in a compass rose

suspended
from your baroque ceiling
it throbs below
vaults
into which

my assumptions

ascend

––

there’s a white band to each periphery

––

between trees, chimes
are doors
vast steel things

not shut not open
echoing in the charred
forest

drizzled

with webs of drifting spiderlings

––

my fish god’s cloudy milt
floats over
(what are probably your)
distant eggs

we’ve never touched
but once
when our lips snatched

––

don’t I know you I said
as we struggled over a

particle

pierced with taste

––

the deck creaks over our heads at night
the rigging’s taut
the officer on watch

––

watches