Conversation in a Dark Corner of Cafe Breton

I loved you with the heaviness of crushed knives

and I always found myself on the precipice of

broken bridges, looking at the still water and

being so thirsty—so very thirsty: Now Kant

he was a strange fellow, always talking about

virtue and duty and morality and reason.

He must've been so boring in bed, missionary

and all that. “From behind, please?” and

he would say, “Now, if that were universal law

then our knees would never get rest. We'd wake

all of Königsberg, all of Prussia!”

When I kissed you I discovered your tongue

was enveloped with small hooks. I swallowed my own

blood, and vomited little shells. I would wake up

having chewed my own blanket into bits.

Does that mean anything to you?

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To R.R., Das Ding an Sich

Surreal and transfixing. FV*

Steven Gowin, Apr 13, 2013

"The heaviness of crushed knives," "I swallowed my own blood, and vomited little shells." This is powerful language.

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