Monday, January 5, 2015

6220. WORDS

WORDS
'I am sending you nothing back with
him, for you already have my words  -
boxes and crates and sheaves of them.
May my aim be true  -  to stop the bewitching
and keep you holy. Thou. Man should be magic.
-
And these are not just ordinary words :  for they 
possess all the folds and valleys of the Moon, and
the heats of the distant Sun. I am an astronomer too.
-
If language is made of love, it cannot come from labor.
In its self-identified Truth it comes from magic and play.
But you must first break the spell of the bewitchment
by which the words hold you fast, and live.
Slave. Ogre. Doer. Deadman. Do not, instead.
Remove yourself from the action. Men sing out
their feelings long before they speak their thoughts.'



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