Remember, at that moment of waking, your swimming body divided into irritated halves, one floated up, the other, nude and undernurtured, scattered as it fell down insane and guilty, pretending to be the lower twin with the welded-in eyes of Gemini. Paris had a way: it came together as @3content@1 in one of you -- which one, I don't know -- and as the merged, reflected image of Castor and Pollux. @3If color were sound you'd hear the bleak screaming of green.@1 When you tried to silence the conflict, to yellow-and-blue it in dream, it burned an orange hole in your corpus collosum. The brackets beneath your vermis broke. Remember how silence itself reached its maximum in your central nervous system? The Seine flowing through Paris was the liquid that held your two floating bodies -- bloated and bobbing -- in its stormy vomit. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |