2. Into Fusion Surrendered


The big wave hit. Smaller waves fall on its retreat.
The new choice is in its place

wrestling within me to escape,
and escaping still wrestle.
My arms wrestle to exhaustion;

knowledge, come in the collapse of old knowledge
kindles itself in a pyre in the sand.
The blood rushes, commanded by its phoenix end.

I am the hall of mirrors.
We two travel endlessly toward each other, combining.
I must claim this breath.

Exhaustion, the sweat exudes distilled,
antipode and proof of devotion; mirror through which desire sweats,
the sweat of itself which beads into a looking pool, and then looks.

This desire is only extinguishable in a body’s arms.

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