Sam's Kiss

Cy Twombly Goes Mad in the Caves of Atimira
"J'ai fait juste un bisou. C'est un geste d'amour, quand je l'ai embrassé, je n'ai pas réfléchi, je pensais que l'artiste, il aurait compris... Ce geste était un acte artistique provoqué par le pouvoir de l'art." – Rindy Sam

Third man, glyphic storyteller, old friend... you
who said "we are a living myth interrupting
ordinariness." I remember when you kissed Rilke
on the lips took
Rumi by the hand,
whispered in Pound's ear.
You know you made some people downright hostile.
You are like an old friend even to those who
never meet you. You are bathroom-graffiti
scrawl painter of the Iliad. You are mark maker
of actual experience. My friend.
Truculent old man, dead man, I kinda love you. And
the Phaedrus Incident, really, who could blame her?
Sam's kiss, that wasn't cannibalism that was a 1, 501
euro extramarital affair.
Well 4: 18am I wake up with Twombly on my mind. I
get out of bed and stumble out into the woods with a
flashlight. I stare at the trunk of an old ash killed by the
emerald borer. Ha ha! There are your marks again you
crazy old army cryptographer.
I kiss your cheek and I go back to bed.