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Going to a psychoanalyst is easy, entering analysis is a different story: the penetrating gaze of an effective voice enlacing a possible truth.
Beyond the limestone I won’t easily show, my loneliness is a heart mined by stony pride: the crossing-out of torn orifices. Polishing such matter demands work, but above all light. In this demand for space, I breathe deeply before mining the unconscious – which digs me from another hole, where there is always something else to be extracted.
The erotics of this expedition is the refinement of another poem that writes me (still, not-all) in the quality of what is unexpected, freed by space, and escaping in every instant.
Official Selection of the 2022 Reel Poetry, Houston, Texas.