#constructing ruins

I try to find you and observe a ghost,  a human by its side. no comparison  is possible. again and again there is  only my looking,

your laughling; and all evidence of my heart  dissolving into unobservable light. then  I name you and I split you from yourself.  the superposition of language

collapses —the image of your empty embrace— subtle inexhaustible electric fire —tell me  how to bend—the question, the spirit, the story— and I see nothing more.

in my sleep, i manufactured a god  out of the man by your side—then  took a breath, refocused and eavesdropped on the technology of your laugh.

that sound entered my insomniac heart  like an electrical current, a pink ember, a promise.  my body didn't respond. at the sight of you— all data is lost.

keep me in your bed or under the electrodes in your laboratory of dreams. i'll jitter with analysis, words rhythmless, eyes on only you.  you could even touch me.

zzz

Some say aircraft and helicopters and some say telescopes and batteries and some say fuels and flight technologies are the most lovely thing on this dark Earth,

but I say it is the aim of holding you skin-to-skin, human-to-human, text-to-text, without any reflection of a god written between us.

this isn't the real issue. you smile, and your mirror image in history looks away, and I watch and lose focus and all communication systems fail—

(I have been running out of the words for this story for the past 2000 years.)

We need surgery to repair a broken silence. We need pulses of electricity, coursing through bone and muscle and skin. to replace the malfunctioning solar panels of my eyes.

Lucan's Death - clarify

a youth born in a century he regarded as a kind of death, who grew up in a city burning with rhetoric.

he studied poetry until it bled into history, the biography of a dying Republic

the wound at the core of the Silver-Voiced war-ode he was not allowed to recite or publish.

A conspiracy is when you are discovered breathing fire (and the rest of the story is better unsaid).

bleeding to death—30 April 65 AD—what survives, or who? an Orpheus looking back on a City in flames,

the poem superfluous. his last words were disrupted. an unspeakable judgement given to crime. but