Dear Reader,
my eyes are nearly clawed out of my head–
the grizzle of my nose is mostly gone–
half of my tongue’s bitten off, and the skin and flesh
of my hands and forearms is torn literally into strings.
In this tattered condition
I have ceased writing
to enjoy a sort of parlay, recovering strength
and preparing to resume my work in a few moments.
Nearby, some former Muses lie on their sides where I tossed them,
eyes glazed and rolling in ecstasy,
while others sneak about
licking the black hinges of their jaws
as they plan a renewal of love’s sweet circlings.
Dear Reader,
believe me when I say there is a beautiful view from where I dip my pen.
Dear Reader,
believe me when I say
it is only you I desire without reservation.
—Jesse Glass