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CALLASSA

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Venezia

Written by Callassa to her lover, baby boy-child

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It is a Venetian summer morning

I have often wished that this time could be forever, unchanging

Then and again, my sweet baby, I have made it so

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CALLASSA

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Little darling, I say this sweetest morning, for me to be more an artist. Then, I am a gift who with words can picture the mysterious of all beauty. So what will I say while my eyes are fixed upon you? It is that I have always been of the opinion that you can never loosen yourself from the woman, from me and the vagina. Ha! You weren’t expecting me to say that. I know, yes I do. How could you remove yourself from me? How? Is it not unremarkable why this is the case? Given such ecstasy in the consummating of the desire, it is also a cruel and unrelenting grip on life, the entrapment of life’s primal purpose. For you to be inside me and to be the re-entrant in what is the most painful of all want and yet is the monumental pleasure, intoxicant. To make love with me and so make the bambini who as you, will do the same, for they too to be inside the ultra-delectable aperture of fulfillment and there, made wild, lose themselves. Be gone. Yes, it is the absolute loss of self, no matter what portrayal those wandering near and yonder make of themselves.

I know that this certainty to engulf does reside within my silent, still and sleeping body. When awake, the certainty lives within my smile, my voice, my touch. It lives within all that I know and all that I do not and this unknowability of my mystery pervades every single facet of my being.

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“I am so pleased we came and thank you for last night.”

“Thank you? Callassa, you don’t have to thank me.”

“I am infused with beautiful elements, they began when you did.”

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(c) July MMXX

(c) March MMXXII

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My baby boy child

who does know me most intimately

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CALLASSA

Venezia. Una mattina d’estate

Invicta Veritate