Pusaq: Two-Headed Nightingale

'But the doves! - sentimental, revolting... We suffer inexpressibly. The relation of cover & book does not exist; there is nothing of our beloved Rosamund in this Valentine symbol, so obvious, so unlovely'.

Beautiful messenger,

dove of Venus

boyhood dressed in fur;

could you be Him?

Where is the violence of corpses

decimation of man?

the chosen wound forever bleeding,

how do you find your own image in the disorder of others?

the Poor image

carving itself a space within my fellow man

eyes sewn open

eyes wide shut

the rowing boat adrift at sea

every morning it harbors

every morning on the same dock, waiting

for the fish to bait

the menfolk follow the raft

greedy fingers stuck onto wriggling flesh

nailbed deep into skin, skin, skin

their nets are full by dawn

the rowboat, ever selfish

raises sail farther North

past the stream, the Men,

conquerors lost to shore

he hates what you've done to me

- yet i would do anything to take you inside me again