And in a single junction we discover
the groaning spot, the gasping spot,
the orgasmic giving spot,
in which a single short exhalation
made in climax and union
brings a new life, breathes a new spirit
into existence and out of the meat,
leaving the wisdoms behind,
out of our grasp, hidden in
our blood, our brains, our bodies.

And while we search in ourselves
to find these bone-etched runes,
paging through dusty memories,
wading through old and older passions,
we will not find it but in the flesh,
in the furry cleft and the rising shaft,
in animals with gemini spines,
and in the expulsed and sanguine newborn,
created flesh screaming frustration
that it cannot reveal the known wisdoms:
its gasp, its groan, its giving of voice
a simple oration, a bestial prayer
of a mystery touched and quick forgotten:
"The Dead are in us."