At this body is a history of a shadow, that is a shadow of me mystically one in another, another, another to subserve. Embody my body slipping. Embody my body slipping down, full toward its own secret sermon, sermon, sermon. A missed sermon rough, a missed sermon, sermon, rough, sent to, wrote in the Romans. On the other hand, world. I used to be there, sss, felt soft, or in a sort, readily knew who or what I was. And there by the music, ah, and therefore lost, mmm, I was. Consulted with myself about it, and, and was ready.

Hannah Edwards remembering her delirium during an illness in 1736 (source)

Everything is transformed into a theatrical decoration. A dreamy reality looms up in the background of the soul. One feels a desire to throw on a cloak and slink quietly along the walls with a searching glance, attentive to every sound. One does not do it, one merely seeks oneself doing it in a renewed youth.

Søren Kierkegaard. Repetition: An Essay in Experimental Psychology. trans Walter Lowrie. New York: Harper & Row (Torchbooks), 1941 (1843).

You are a union beyond my meiosis
You are a Yukon beyond my Micronesia
You are a union beyond my meiosis
You are a unicycle beyond my migration
You are a universe beyond my mitochondria
You are a Eucharist beyond my Miles Davis
You are a euphony beyond my myocardiogram
You are a unicorn beyond my Minotaur
You are a eureka beyond my maitai
You are a Yuletide beyond my minesweeper
You are a euphemism beyond my myna bird
You are a unit beyond my mileage
You are a Yugoslavia beyond my mind’s eye
You are a yoo-hoo beyond my minor key
You are a Euripides beyond my mime troupe
You are a Utah beyond my microcosm
You are a Uranus beyond my Miami
You are a youth beyond my mylar
You are a euphoria beyond my myalgia
You are a Ukrainian beyond my Maimonides
You are a Euclid beyond my miter box
You are a Univac beyond my minus sign
You are a Eurydice beyond my maestro
You are a eugenics beyond my Mayan
You are a U-boat beyond my mind control
You are a euthanasia beyond my miasma
You are a urethra beyond my Mysore
You are a Euterpe beyond my Mighty Sparrow
You are a ubiquity beyond my minority
You are a eunuch beyond my migraine
You are a Eurodollar beyond my miserliness
You are a urinal beyond my Midol
You are a uselessness beyond my myopia

Harryette Mullen, "Any Lit"

“Extricate all questions from the least confusion by words or ambiguity of words so that the Ideas shall be left naked” he once wrote. Poetry is love for the felt fact stated in sharpest, most agile and detailed lyric terms.

Susan Howe, "Errand", The Quarry