Dance of Re-memberment

Glance into a mirror:    the poetic corpus.

             You are Laura

Scatterini, the goddess of dispersion, a

beautiful monster created out of every

individual perfection.  Postponement is

           your thing.  You lack parts.

You cry out to reverse it.  A non-

Freudian way of looking at yourself seems

                 urgent.  But

   the libido returns, savage and non-

cultural, wearing long fringe and implants,

          waving its fetishes, dismantling

dogmatic packages, prescriptives.

Please the father/become the father/ah

           turn on him/talk to the trees.

    Make your nakedness a reason to

speak.  See the present moment as an end.

            Your body as hope.

            Your body as word.

            Your body dancing alone

at the expense           of no one.

A tolerable                    swirling

                nudity turning the

                                       forbidden screws,

permitting a celebration in which     word

          turns back into flesh,      absence into

              heat, into light, into meaning.