--- R A N D A L L   C O U C H

 

                       What I hunger for is not a parable of anything.
                                          —Susan Mitchell 

 
Trail your lazy tongue 
      around my lips, she said,
      and learn this truth:
what interests you is empty.
That truth is facile. 

All capability is negative
      or haven't you been
      keeping up?
A hole, for God's sake,
      fuit ante Helenam belli causa.

What you recall is not yours,
      or part only,
      is not how it was;
you won't find any substance
      at the heart of it. 

What you have lost is
      indeterminate, the space
      between particles,
circumference of chance. It 
      was restless as dice. 

So she instructed me. 
      And I'd concede 
      enough to wonder—
How does pain arise
      from emptiness? 

Put your mouth on mine, she said,
      and mark the threshold
      of the world. We bite off
as much nothing 
      as we can chew—

boundary makes meaning,
      we live on the edge.
      If shape is not given,
no tears in the nature of things,
      then we take shape— 

so isn't it pretty clear
how we should proceed?