Erasures

A Type of Agnes

A Type of Agnes We must kill the street. Dada never to know, seized by dissent, to speak is to disbelieve. What they called a torch what I spend my life with he made at a cafe table at one o'clock in the morning. The bedroom slanted in five directions and the river took each one. It was a toy house, took each one. At the top of the stairs, my whole life fell into boxes. She raised a baton. She raised a river. When the waters reached the glassworks, no pain is sharper than crystal in the lungs. Where it was raining he built a bicycle underneath the cars, silvered. I needed desperately to return to be lovers. Beautiful house in shade, who never returned I never knew. We must kill the street because it brings too many people forward into light they cannot bear, into the accusations they cannot answer. If Heaven takes an animal by the throat, it is a torch. Seized by dissent, it inventsthe traffic. The selfless lesbian Geschwitz in the adagio. Never to know with whom I spend my life more in love than usual this morning. September little river and little differences. The street joins them. 25 The crystal furnace was rebuilt in less than a year. The river lifted a baton and the work began. No distinction is rational. I do not believe in anything, what they call a torch, silver underneath the cars. My childhood was better, dense on a blue Sunday where the water lay. 26 ...