We have a story.
I can't tell you what it is.
we're not ready for any story yet.
we have first to take accounts-- no, not accounts.
Not confessions either.
stock, in a general sense.
internal stock, a kind of psychiatric mediation.
just a medieval arm wrestling match over a stretch of land, in the question:
who are you?
how did you come to be here?
is it really you sitting there?
and what do you expect me to do about it?
we're beset with any number of internalizing self-destructive ghosts
but this is an advantage
it wouldn't do to be too sure about things
including our own name
this then can be the beginning for a story:
we're not sure
"this may be the beginning", IS the beginning
we have a lot to do
and no idea how to do it
we have a lot to forget
and are incapable of it
we need munitions,
and they are not to be found
this heresy which I inscribe
so lovingly over your ancestors' feet
should in time form a sort of blessing
the oneiroscope regard
for your dreamland awakenings
in some other country than here
but until then
the ravens and the moons
and see your vice and will
we can say
no matter what others do
that our hair is on fire
and you burn well