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First of all you have to experience that power
Of interruption, how the desire to speak displaces
Speech. There’s a tension below the jaw, as if
Something clenched in air, and the mouth begins
To learn what’s asked, to answer what can’t be;
The eye, startled, starts, and the nerves’ reticulations
Find expression in a net of impulse and mis-
Firing, which has its own logic, no longer self-
And-other, but some nested parenthetical, the tongue
Nested and fluttering, the ear’s labyrinth of curls
And feedback. Neither ignorance nor understanding
Is the least help, nor the studs and piercings meant
To appease or embarrass mere desire, nor the gag
And hood of conscience or conscious deception. This
Is the gift ungiven, the frame-by-frame undoing
Of time and time’s intent, and the I of love eyeing
A world that stands between it and the world,
Where speech is passport, map, and all direction
Home’s a stumbling now in darkness, no hands,
But all the echoes you can handle, and more to come.
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