Monday, April 13, 2009

the conspiracy of psyche and eros

no "because" can ever come between
the butterfly and the butterfly bush.

I mean it's not as if
they don't know what they're doing,
or that they could ever
conceivably
be at a loss
for words
to describe,
explain,
justify,
and
praise
their brightly colored
sweet and fragrant
dance.

in fact I'm sure they talk about it all the time.

looking out into my backyard I can almost hear them:
the nearly silent meeting of lips and ears of flower and insect
whispering sweet and fragrant nothings to each other

(these nothings are living words - words that can breathe,
words that can bleed - the very opposite of meaningless)

while they exchange the gifts of thoughtless pleasure
and the brightly colored essence of life itself.

[8/25/08]

(P.S. The calligraphy above literally means "three ears", but it also has the meaning of "whisper". Yet another meaning is to "conspire", which, in turn, literally means "to breath together".)