"But love, that word...Horacio the moralist, fearful of passions born without some deep-water reason, disconcerted and surly in the city where love is called by all the names of all the streets, all the buildings, all the flats, all the rooms, all the beds , all the dreams, all the things forgotten or remembered. My love, I do not love you for you or for me or for the two of us together, I do not love you because my blood tells me to love you, I love you because my blood tells me to love you, I love you because you are not mine, because you are from the other side, from there where you invite me to jump and I cannot make the jump, because in the deepest moment of possession you are not in me, I cannot reach you, I cannot get beyond your body, your laugh, there are times when it torments me that you love me (how you like to use the verb to love, with what vulgarity you toss it around among plates and sheets and buses), I'm tormented by your love because I cannot use it as a bridge because a bridge can't be supported by just one side, Wright or Le Corbusier will never make a bridge that is supported by just one side, and don't look at me with those bird's eyes, for you the operation of love is so simple, you'll be cured before me it'll be someone else, you can change things the way you do with a blouse. So sad to listen to Horacio the cynic who wants a passport-love, a mountain-pass love, a key-love, a revolver-love, a love that will give him the thousand eyes of Argos, ubiquity, the silence out of which music is possible, the root out of which language can be woven. And it's foolish because all that is sleeping a little in you, all you would have to do is submerge yourself in a glass of water like a Japanese flower and little by little colored petals would begin to bloom, the bent forms would puff up, beauty would grow. Infinite giver, I do not know how to take, forgive me. You're offering me an apple and I've left my teeth on the night-table. Stop, It's fine that way. I can also be rude, take note of that. But take good note, because it's not gratuitous."

Julio Cortazar, Hopscotch 93

I think this is a tacky post

the greatest love may be simple, the best love is like music:::



More than your words,
I need your space
right next to me
across from me
I could sleep with you there
finally
The sun is breaking through
you step towards me
quiet
I feel more than I know
the earth is steady
and it is moving because it is so
I cannot enter myself
without your breath
stay right there
right here
we'll lie around together
you'll raise me from the drunken floor
tomorrow

love you

i'm gonna write a love story or love poem or love prosey shit poem (that is prose enjambed in brown and green font, i think).

I'm trying to come to some great discovery, that i am talented. that i am a genius. i'm trying to shock myself. i'm trying to find a tub of confidence. i'm drinking more often.

the first word of my love prosey shit poem will be:
Love

the first punctuation mark of my love prosey shit poem will be:
,

I'm going to incorporate some lines from John Ashberry's poem Girls on the Run:
"Dream lover, won't you come to me?
Dream lover, won't you be my darling?
It's not too late or too early."

I will get this published some day. mark my words. shut up. shut the hell up. It'll be published, in one form or another, and then i'll be the one laughing at you for doubting me, but it won't matter to you because you won't know me, I'll just be a crazy person laughing deliriously on the street, and you'll be with your husband or wife and you'll mistake me for a bum and chuck coins at me or pretend you're really distracted with something else.