End Fetish: An Index Of Last Lines

a face stares back. across the hostile centuries. add a twist — delicious. and never feel a thing. commercial — added stretch to every gesture. how it is made. I almost admire it. I almost wrote despise. I’d be all give. Let me put it like this== in the nocturnal, recessed bed== of nettles. resembles the bird it will fly into. Right now I’m trying to open wide. she turns to a tree. she would be neither-nor. smoky field. that is space. the bride. the exdream — the world gone into god again? the night. the white between the ink. the white navel — I notice — in the O. their harsh done crust. then some inbetween? to a nuptial lace. to ever dwell again. to mask the screen in dumb expanse. touch in linen walls. Turn — her — loose — What — does not console? who could bear to save her. yes, god her saurian voice into the ground.