I would like to introduce myself and say a few words
about my experience as a pair of eyes & a head
of vague ideas. Everyone says that, I know.
Everyone has their own dream about speaking
the Perfect Word, showing the Perfect Face,
having the Exact Change for the sullen bus ride home.
I won't even try to offer you that, though secretly
I'm always courting the Fates, searching for 
the Perfect Charm that turns their heads
in my direction.

I would like to take off my clothes and stand
naked in front of you all, without embarassment,
your attention focused like a spotlight on my genitals,
jealousy or laughter flying around the room
beyond my control, and the discipline to
feel at ease with my own body, still hoping I don't 
get an erection.

I'd like to leave this stage, later maybe, and go back
into the world of unclean things : people tainted with 
OEdipal complexes and death instincts, objects soiled
by words and names, events washed in blood and
misinterpretation. I still believe in the real world.
I still believe in telephones, depression, music, constant 
enlightenment, a nod of the head, wink of the eye,
and imperfection.

I want to smile to myself & feel understood.  
An improbable desire, I know. I don't even understand 
myself. Almost never speak as a pair of eyes. 
Did you conjure up the image : a piece of vision 
engaged in poetic dialogue?  I didn't think so. I'm 
a literary failure, but I won't stop talking. Exposure is a 
form of protection.