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Gynogenesis
 (gynogenesis --- Parthenogenesis in which the
egg is activated by sperm but without fusion of the egg and sperm nuclei.)
There is something in the virgin birth of sharks
informing you that what you always thought
you knew
didn't happen,
you never knew
why it couldn't.
Because it could.
Everything rare exists
despite the balance, or,
it is the same thing,
the overwhelming prevalence
of evidence
against it.
The study of the unknown is nearly indistinguishable
from the study of the non-existent
but the study of the known
is not only an oxymoron.
Every fact
in reality
is a discovery, hot,
glowing: a radioactive
spider. Somewhere the plutonium
is leaving its fingerprints,
arachnodactyly,
in your chromosomes,
where secrets are woven
for your protection.
Arriving at What
Arriving you are likely to find ---
what? Yes, that's one answer. To begin
as if you didn't already (do you?)
know, and proceeding from the
punctuation indicating ?interrogation
end with that indicating complete
thought, or even
the imperative: a point.
Period.
A menstruation of sorts.
But bloodless. Idea-shed,
fixed with the permanence of
pulped forest; laser or ink jet,
the way a
raindrop or a tear can blur
the most brilliant meaning or,
on fire, evaporate perspicacious words into
thick smoke,
fume-choke diffusing into solidly invisible
air; rarefied,
no-and-every-
where.
Nakedness is a means of clothing yourself
in atmosphere, a shared raiment of
lungstuff, the vibration-scape of
vocalization, sculpted intention-shapes
rippling into the flesh-hammer shell of inner
ears, the transparent bloodstream of hearing,
the cartilage you share with
(how many, --- six billion today?)
the rest --- call it the syncytium --- of your extending
humanity; the unmatched residue of as many
Buddhist prayers: up in flame.
With no uniform, unspelled,
arrested in hetero-and-
homo-nyms, a spoken word unlawful
combatant, prisoner of
wore, warn, wearing
a threadbare membrane of being
completely naked, just as naked
as musical air
pulsing into
skin, into
desire. Pulsing into
desire alive as the
driving into the
slit aspiring into the
split-piercing
spire breathing the naked
higher the air, higher the
thriving threshold of the mounding
cliff the arching
lift, a prize,
adrift on a rift
riving the flowglass river riving
the barge-sliver gift riving
the what you feel and cannot
the what you know and cannot
riving the beginning of a
riving the such
arriving exactly into ---
the what.
Love in the Key of Skin
Skin, bright-eyed, sightreads
fingersong calligraphy.
You, my holy -- braille.
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