The Origin

That in his face was no orgasm but a rabbit, paw caught

steel at the base of the tree, which was his face was generous

spread to heaven. At night the roots would sneak out for water past the trap in which wrestled his contraries, was my teacher & never knew why his sternness recalled my father as Reich in Freud's saw despair, the no constantly clamped Steel at the base of the tree in which she swam who was our mother caught among the wrathful contraries why his face was held behind me as the torch a woman holds out in Guernica, stone torch of head

as I wrote, that head over my shoulder in utter despair, why he should appear there, wanting to nestle. The rabbit chained at the base of his face most a railroad crossing I had to make, his lacunae precious to me, as in all men there is this missing fills to sea, so in him there is order around a rock, pebbles raked around a rock, that he might set others in motion, for his granite too moves, all things, even the missing

hint, which was his power tested me tested me allowed me grasp

forever hence what I saw.