I would like to kiss you, I say.    I find it strange that I feel the same way, she says.    I do not find it strange or surprising.    An affair is an event    a wheel    a wheel    a wheel    a wheel Levi says a wheel    a wheel    a wheel    a wheel    the rivercaped lightning man salts trains a wheel    a wheel    a wheel    a wheel    A dress is a beautiful thing (a wheel or a wheel a dress is a beautiful thing and my love is a westwork who dresses.    Perhaps I am secretly in love with you, I say.    Who is it secret from?    She says.    Me, I say.    A wheel is a wheel is a dress is a beautiful thing.    A naked dress is a correct night and rehearses dying and is a rehearsal of death.    Death rehearses a kiss an death gestures a kiss beautiful as a dress and one contacts the other.    One is naked under a dress and another is anonymous or I can’t remember a face which tastes like a kiss and gestures death and death is dressed occasionally.    I am no laughter but one laughs and she is mine I know she is mine, itself a jest of genius.    I do not feel guilty, she says, and a guilt is an unknown and I will remember when I touched her leg under her dress and a mouth is a beautiful thing and it darkens thin then yet and remembering an event like a death is a wheel turned into a dress reinforcing a black line and a black line is a circle is a wheel when I like your black hair a wave or your straight black hair toss turned in a dress and I do not touch.    If I touch, it is a kiss and not a long kiss or a deep one, but surprise and it is a surprise to confirm you naked a wheel in my wheel and there is no doubt.    Should I feel guilty?    She says and I do not answer or there is no mixing it is, isn’t it -- yes it is -- yes yes it is -- a something it begins or beguiles and to do be alone is bewitch an anything -- yes, isn’t it?    -- and guilt itself is a death rocking and the rocks and wicker contain a language.    It is it, a wheel atop a dress is a beautiful thing content in death.    It is it, isn’t it, a wheel atop a dress contained in death dying vague and dying invitation and open.    A train is a wheel and dozen perches on a celandine, close to a hair or close to the near foot in red pressed red near red and a move nears and god closes Lord have mercy on us Lord have mercy on me and a catholic is a ritual and a catholic is a communion and the communion is the whole body.    The body is swallowed and every body is a ritual of gesture, some near mercy and a psalm have mercy and the Lord have mercy near as a body and bodies are wrapped in dress and slow, and one moves slow as an anchor or some psalm before communion and the guilt is perhaps nothing if there is any guilt and there is no guilt only Lord have mercy and a dying a slow dying dress moving on a train wheel a kind of horizontalness and an alone is a mystic a crucified thief and I am a crucified thief    feet side on the tree slow and to eat is a pleasure and to drink is a pleasure the Lord has mercy on those in ritual and speech is an event like any other, god rolling and god interrogating and god is only a mouth that sounds and interrogates but I suppose I doubted.    I doubt and I interrogate and Lord have mercy Christ have mercy and if I die Lord have mercy Christ have mercy and I die Lord have mercy Christ have mercy.
A secret is a desolate place.    Secret is a desolate place an eye is gone or a chair and a chair drinks a cider for a wedding.    We returned a chair straightback and a skirt is a curvature.    A skirt is a smooth dress and a skirt is a schizophrenic.    One chairs returning from a wedding and a wedding occurs this day or returning from a wedding and a wedding occurs this day or that day and one kisses secret or happens upon a simple white exterior leminiscating red or droplet red on a heel and a heel is everything and equally curved simple smooth as death split in a hand or covering a hand.    A hand is made to cover desolate places and a hand covers secrets and to deny oneself is an atonement and to deny oneself is the most holy place and fire mixes the altar and exchanges blood.    Blood is an exchange and one dresses in white or a schizophrenic skirt which is almost a dress and washes a body water white exchanged a blood and hands cover all secrets and blood is a secret in exchange.    Secret is a desolate place and secret is a return from a wedding dressed glad, and I make no sound and I lay to make no sound and confrontation is a sound and there is no hurry.    A quilt is multiple and quilt comes together multiple body and colours, which meets red and white on a chair straightback and straight backwards spins and patches weave work and a hand is its own doing.    You are a surprise, she says and Lydia is all mingled people hand into land and Lydia all the mangled people and the house and the head are one.    You are a surprise and witches devour the internal organs of the other while they sleep.    I touch or a hand covers and a mouth is an opening and who receives what covers raw in a chair stilted skirt like, feeling white a penny knife just a dip no why.    God covered the long length.    A mystery is no cover but space.    Space is the first light twa sisters sat in a bour white is newly baptized this season and bonnys pigeons.    Pigeons are holy and rest in snags and the rest rests rest, collapsed white.    She sheers packing and unpacking boxes drawers closets packing and unpacking boxes drawers closets moving and unmoving socks and skirts packing and unpacking cloth is all cloth white is nothing irreducible white exterior and a body is also a skirt which covers an injury a skirt covers one over in shade in compressed light and a body is compression or a sigh and I assume a cut sighs and an injury is also a mouth.    Call it anything.    A god calls and Christ became Job or Christ was Job but God refused to answer from the darkness.    The dark was the carcass of a whale and no one calls in an ash and later the crucifix was reused and eventually burnt.    A sight sees no God but the white eye shine of the exterior and Christ was a priest when he died too.    There is no wife.    There is a wife but she is not mine but Job’s or an apocrypha and Marys and Maries disappear all the time.    Marys and Maries vanish all the time and a wife is perhaps no difference or is difference like the male of a boxer vulnerable at middleweight.    If I kiss you, I will not stop.    If I kiss you I’m afraid I won’t stop the boxes the vessels the duck and suture packing and unpacking and moving is a dream.    Dream is narration dreams narrate ending and exhausting there is this, and there that there in this and there that and a bare shoulder is a cross-examination and it’s a pleasure and it gives glorious sound.    Your hair is clean -- and clean -- and clean -- and I see Ada torturing her sister and I see dark Vivian amplifying loreleis or pinning loreleis built on bop.    I am not drunk nor do I drink like last time -- one last time is a red or is red toenail polish and I laugh it’s a slutty colour.    Pigeons are supposed to remind of those things.    The passenger pigeon was a very social bird.    If they carried my sickness, then they carried sickness and I am sick -- I do not get sick, but I am sick and the pigeons demanded a radio station and no hunters shot and killed or at least the pigeons didn’t see a shot and guts falling glory glory hallelujah.    Fuck pigeons and pigeons are a holy thing.    Heat is a train station and warmth originates nowhere.    It’s all play -- play? -- play -- as in play and play is all and beauty is a French phonetic corruption of a short cloth neck ornament.    A neck is an ornament and a play, just as short cloth slices from the sound of a shoulder, the sound of a bare back or some ornament designed as play and play is a staging anyhow or a frenetic telephone.    Fingernails are short and a corruption of a claw or horn -- is that all?    That’s all -- all is simply a gesture or a remarkable dance, should to no shoulder in play and the rest is a red corruption and my guts and innards are a flail and I am sick and sleepy.    The rest is a headache or a muscle ache and the extant pigeons play outside.    They are children.    Were you seen?    I am never see and I have no wife nor children but I love sometimes although I have forsaken love and I do not call it love and she says I love you and I think for two seconds and I say I love you too, and it’s a pigeonhole or Braxton speak or the sawed off nail in driftwood and it’s not I do not love, but a shoulder or an ornament encased in spider or the red dressed bare skirts along a repetitions rug in an arch along two arches and a keystone.    I would kiss you and I kiss you like a lamb and Mother hail mary full of grace the Lord is with thee.    You are a mother and you are holy like pigeons and a werving.    Lam of God, who takes away the sins of the World, have mercy on us.    I kiss you like a lamb I kiss you like a lamb and I am not seen.    Lamb of God who takes away t sins of the World, have mercy on me.    You are a lamb and you merry me in a cover not seen.    Mother of Heaven, have mercy.    I am never seen and I away myself say and once I became a body.    I was an ornament to a body covered by a Lamb.