cosmic tear

i. tear the cosmos
in the dark
at your desk.
let the seminal twilight in,
breathe it through pores.
let it devour
sticky skin
from the inside out.

ii. tear the cosmos
in the dark
on your feet.
let the seminal twilight out,
find the canopy line
in the absence of stars
and let your shadow
devour time
from the outside
in.

iii. i invoke thunder
and cast out lightning.
i see
taste
hear
smell
feel
better
without the long leashes of fire:
a false consciousness,
a muted transparency,
an object permanence.
they would burn down the whole
forest
just to get a good look.

iv. i tear the cosmos,
put my hand
through the cut of the threshold
where tiny fish
nibble my fingertips
and remove dead skin.
i am the fish
and the tear
and the universe
because i can see
where neither ends
but we are all consumed.
i am in the ritual,
i am of the ritual,
and i am the ritual:
an endless dark night
who constitutes a self
as much as an us.

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