If you are given one set of letters, you can write down the
others.
Francis Crick
This is a book
of beginning
(words).
This is a book
of endings
(books).
This is a forgetting
and a remembering. This is a book spun in the
gut. This is a book with (vague
boundaries. This is a book of premembering.
(You never know whether
you are opening a book
or a world.)
breath
pressed
in a book
(the givenness of existence
I pretend to be
Godard's character
I am inside a book made of light
being in the midst of is)
other-flourishing
wine-press for words
I lift a stone
out of my heart.
It is my heart.
This book is written by Agrippa--
mesmeric and swallowed.
This book
sustains its enigmatic correspondence with
the
silence that spills around its shores.
This book exchanges its presence
with the presence of the world.
This book is a dwelling.
It leaves a blue
streak.
It opens
its soft mouth around) you
