“[T]his detachment… gave me a kind of vampiric energy, although I was my own prey.” Ben Lerner

I watch Picasso work
The granite blob of gray-blue
Into a void, if I said this out loud
He would spit in my mouth and
Curse my mother who hasn’t yet been born
Her arms are returning, an honest day’s work, I am quiet,
Sweat, sweet black eyes,
Longing, a gauntness as from a fountain like
Punctuation.