SUBJECT>A love poem POSTER>asher EMAIL> DATE>1109371804 IP_ADDRESS>dbwlib02.weldon.lib.uwo.ca PREVIOUS> NEXT> 83947 83954 83968 83976 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

On Mount Parnassus, we took a chair lift up
to ski a black diamond. You were Artemis, perhaps.
That vacuole drains and leaves black bareness
on Mount Parnassus, I conceived a black muse

A lightening that turned
in and ate itself/ Consider the anachronistic
use of the word oracle. Check yourself out in
A mirror floating. Follow the leader in the manner

of a chaperon. This place is desolate, Namgyal.
And the solus that you could not endure robs
chickens of their heads as they run in frantic
circles. They rise in the afterlife. The nucleus

of the afterlife is only a word and I am trying
to coin this...and yet. Always the turn
of the worm at the end of mid sentence. I want to
heave you. And yet we must attempt to make

an account of how space grows vast without
an oracle, because the chairlift has stopped in mid
air and we are growing dark sun. And love is to
remember/ however imperfect my memory.

What if memory, a vacuole, leaves this bare leaping
out in the hopes

of what you could have been when you invaded me--
a huntress. Always a turn, Romantic. If you can endure
this space that grows vast/because to love is to remember
you/however imperfect.