Men and their Names

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No more names on my arm, my God,

no more names on my heart.

Each name is the song of a different Earth;

speaking it, the map must rewrite.

Then all of my reasons are reasons no more;

all of my reasons disappeared.

A coherent “why” explains the wind

and the trail that led me here.

If that why is no longer relevant,

if the reason has disappeared,

then so has the trail that explains why I'm here;

and the wind that cannot be held never blew.

You touch me; and you lie to me.

You say you are like me.

My power is to embellish you, but “you” are your own country.

And when I become your satellite, because you have pulled me in,

my mind must rewrite my history, and the truth of what I'm in.

A woman is the field upon

which battling voices fall;

her hearing is reality-inducing attention.

Your voice sounds so under my skin...

it fits so well with your eyes.

Your voice becomes the native tongue

with which I describe the world.

No more names on my skin, my God.

No more hands to spin.

An hour ago you tap my back;

an hour later you are in.

I could not stop ground zero's pivot point from being the rearranging locus

I could not stop the discarding of old; in with the new.

Even in my perceived emptiness, even my whole vast world of ghosts,

even the flavor of loneliness,

were forms that occurred within your orbit.

No need to be aware of your gravity; its dominance was the safety of coherence and sense;

but now that you've signaled my discard from your orbit silently

these shapes disintegrate -- the most painful state 

is to feel how they never were

(even though they were – one always needs an intact world

to be within

and when one, truly, lets it go,

a new one quickly comes;

and I get confused by these different worlds

for they hold different routes within,

different laws and different truths; new sets of possibilities.

Don't believe someone who spells out your fate to you;

nothing has to be.

I am nobody.

Return me to nowhere – a land of my own, undoing the tome

of your voice as it fell onto me.

No world is claimed to be 

the victor in any canonical text

(except one)).

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