Jan 19, 2015 | Uncategorized
157.
Asprawl on lawn in the pose of
Titian’s Danaë in exiguous bikini
she welcomed the island weather the
sun knew her deep
and I looked away at all the other
pictures on the air
every mistake needs its own footnote
everything means he said again
if Offenbach can be a Jew then I can
too
the gondola took all my doubts away
I too heard the dead contralto singing
from the wall
and all my tragic love affairs are
comedies
the Muse told me stick to the skin
you know
the giddy surfaces of human life,
skip the abyss
forget silly Scamander where silly
heroes fight and die.
158.
Only in the heart does the blue
flower grow and tells the one who finds it
climb into your body and drive to the
other side of truth
someone is waiting there and always
for you
the sentimental abstract blood
trickles sweet bite
grasses on the high moors unanimous
in wind
nothing can live at this altitude a
steeple
I want to be at home as things are
but that’s a kind of cardboard Africa
live where no one ever imagined
is that the famous blue flower
or the White Rose of national decency
for which the young students suffered
and died?
Jan 18, 2015 | Uncategorized
155.
This still is Eden but who’d believe
me
I meant only to complain the
lawnmower erased the cello suite
but then the sun suffused the fog and
no one listened
to anything but the noise that
silenced me
this still is Eden some of us never
left
a flaming sword that keeps you out
lights us to our beds
because we sleep in matter
mind has burned away all its guesses
too much weight groan of a physical
world
the wind in Eden my mother crying
or a story she could understand when
I had come
beyond all stories to the untellable
itself.
156.
One of those days when all music sounds
like church
the wind is up to something
breath tries to remind us to let go
it has no natural end no golden
fleece
only the dragon car on the
merry-go-round
I rode it pompous to ride with Medea
the invisible beings who guide and
protect
y ddraig goch for instance small monster in my blood
enough of Being it’s time for the Is
the self-existent the shadow of a
woman the mother’s dream
Amphitrite comes before all and Ovid
names her first
goddess of the ocean from whom we
come and we are hers.
Jan 16, 2015 | Uncategorized
153.
A man’s voice and a woman’s voice at
once
I have to check these clues with my
therapist
my vow stands beside me and saves me
from myself
leave your letter in plain sight to
baffle the police
bird further away the hill to hear us
one day I swear it they’ll come out
from the hills again
cleanse us of this debt-crazed world
whip the money-makers out of this
temple world
how dare you listen to music doesn’t
it tell you something
fragments of silence all we need at a
window
to believe we are the only ones is blasphemy
listen to those who walk invisible
and talk to them too.
154.
Quiet describing landscape never seen
by names alone a wind comes through
the fog
the way a wave moves through the sea
displacing nothing
matter is not the same as what it
does
there is a mindful moving in all
things
but talk about love instead the
cellist’s bare knees
press the earphone closer to the
silence
wanted to sit all day and think but
not think thoughts
just the ordinary mistral just the
light passing by
impossible angles the edges of lost
things
they scare me more than a half-eaten
apple
Eve’s disobedience still not quite
complete.
Jan 15, 2015 | Uncategorized
151.
Anchor lights the masts are gone now
blue collisions in this fog
a master of humility aquifer unsalt
me
cleanse me of all matters till I am
matter alone
much so much to ask an alchemist
chewing roses the taste is late to
flower
then from every taste you’re in the
sudden garden
Gan Eden where the atmosphere stands
guard
our other planet we are programmed to
forget
each one of these must be at least a
stone
how they look beneath an inch of
clear water
how they look when you see me in her
dream.
152.
Time a shadow cast by heavenly event
name me in your sleep
for when I sleep it is a fierce and
silent place
I don’t know how to touch you there
and then the birds are slow to sing
at dawn
birth cry of a lone old man hoarse
mourning dove
I move my head the face in the mirror
doesn’t move
at night she can’t escape the color
of her dress
it makes the sun keep rising
everywhere she goes
I dare you not to look at me I am a
mirror
I wear glass wherever I go no wonder
you’re silent
not even the morning has so much to
say.
Jan 13, 2015 | Uncategorized
149.
So some words banish us from us
and some are singing as they leave
the park
maybe a story is a wicked thing
tell what happened but not the
happening?
better the man alone in a room
music comes somehow in
and nothing said or said not much
just let us look at a man all by
himself
a woman sitting in her house alone
what kind of story could be better
than silence
as if in Ovid a girl is changed into
a girl
and there is no self to distract us
with green leaves.
150.
No special moment for the clock to
stop
o I’ll get a headline out of that
you hear me better when you aren’t
listening
government a fancy word for the
police
anybody knows what you mean but not
what you say
saying is dark dark a tree lost in a
forest
pluck this fruit and name yourself
again
a nobody slipping under the giant’s
reach
Polyphemus is radar crouch to be
unknown
miracle of neglect the oil of absence
sweet
and so Blake seldom saw the sea and
if he did
its size itself dissuaded him from
the transports of love.
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