I gave birth to my infinite being,
but I had to wrench myself out of me with forceps.
And yet how often I’ve longingly envisioned this peace that I would almost flee,
if I could do so easily and gracefully.
I’m inoffensiveness incarnate.
We almost always live outside ourselves,
and life itself is a continual dispersion.
The sound of increasing rain,
as if everything were weeping,
is a relief.
Words for me are tangible bodies,
visible sirens,
incarnate sensualities.
Don’t be lived by it.
Our personality should be inscrutable,
even to ourselves.