Apr 3, 2015 | Uncategorized
292.
That was good kyning they’ll never say of me
I lost Caesar on the way to France
a slim-hipped nation on a crowded bus
Europe is always on the march I want
to sit still
buying a dictionary brought me closer
to girls
I was so young I believed in what I
read in what I said
even if I didn’t believe a word of
what it said
I was a boy with a penknife looking
for the bark of a tree
to carve my name in and find out who
I was
the trees were quick in those days
and I was slow
so I remembered music Mahler mostly
and pretended it was you talking to
just me.
293.
So much for me, life begins when you
forget
and live by feeling through the world
of will
that angry place of plastic and
aluminum
commonest elements made hard and not
to eat
so feeling is your blade young man
keep silence till you get to say it
spoken silence is the richest meat
and nourishes the clarity inside
all those layers of you till I get to
me
and always always the other way round
Leipzig the fugue trapped in the
organ
I opened the creaking door and let it
out.
Apr 2, 2015 | Uncategorized
289.
Nothing is likely to end
the rose of Sharon is just now blossoming
should I hand over to it this work of
saying
she is easier to read but harder to
understand
all touch dissolves in color
color crystalizes into sound
a sound you mistake for a word
rain on marble steps slippery as
poetry
but it isn’t raining it isn’t
anywhere
the word you think you heard unlocks
your memory
everything you remember escapes and
runs away
leaving you free alone with your own
meaning.
291.
Successiveness dissolves in klang
all the notes played at once of what
will be a song
use the simplest word for it
a word though now sick with
commercial implication
song as commodity is the root of war
copyright is blasphemy
all of these words are yours to begin
with
I just got in the way on their way to you
shall we end at the Milvian Bridge
where they began to confuse Christ
with Caesar
o throw that denarius away his face
is in the sky
no his face is your face when you
wake up.
Apr 1, 2015 | Uncategorized
287.
When it caught me I was the meadow
but we all have a right to that green
place
where every flower is a telephone to
hell
because the colors we see so
variously are the mind of somewhen else
far away right beneath our feet
or did you Lady beneath our skin
where the shining trumpets blaze drums
dare to touch
is it there or is it there
of course the land I mean is someone
else
right here if only I’d stop talking
if only you would speak
saddest of all songs white-throated
sparrows’.
288.
Coming to feeling
no one knows what a word means in the
mouth of the other
this is axiomatic not even the skin
knows
who touched me? for I felt the power
reaching out from me
touch heals but who or whom
what does the skin know of touch
intention or accident love or scorn
the earth is blue
that’s all we knew
enough to be a pirate in a sea of
talk
stand by your word until it falls
bury it not on the fertile prairie
bury it in language that café
full cup the church most godly.
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